Here, There, & Back Again
by starophie
Summary: Phoebe Callahan has a secret; one that puts her mother's life in jeopardy every day. Because Lily Callahan is not her mother's real name - it's Maura Isles. When Jane Rizzoli's daughter, Bex, meets Phoebe at camp, can they put the pieces together before it's too late?
1. The Way It Ends

hi there! this is a brand new story, and the first i've ever co-written - thank you eternally to **la lisboa**, my mindtwin and partner in crime for this piece. we'll (well, _i'll_) be posting on mondays and fridays, so please enjoy this chapter and we'll see you next week!

disclaimer: we own nothing you recognize, etc.

* * *

It happened without warning.

Jane would spend the next decade torturing herself over what she had missed that night, how she could have prevented the unthinkable from happening. She knew she had scanned the street upon exiting the Dirty Robber, but there hadn't been any cars. On the contrary, the streets had been completely empty. In retrospect, maybe that should have been her first clue that something was wrong.

"I'll walk you to your car," Korsak offered as the door to the restaurant closed behind them.

Jane exchanged an exasperated look with Maura before turning back to her partner. "You don't have to do that, you know. We'll be fine."

Korsak smiled. "I know, but it's late." When Jane still looked skeptical, he said, "I'm an old man. Humor me."

"That's very kind of you, Sergeant Korsak," Maura said, effectively ending all further argument. Jane rolled her eyes at Maura, but Maura just smiled and took her hand. "Just because we closed a case tonight doesn't meet the streets are completely safe. There's still plenty of other serial rapist-murderers out there."

"Thanks for reminding me," Jane grumbled, but she grudgingly followed Korsak, Frost, and Maura down the street. It did feel good to close a case, to rack up one more win for the good guys. This had been an especially trying case, since the culprit had managed to accumulate quite the body count before finally being caught.

The sound of rapid acceleration caught Jane's attention. She turned around just in time to see a dark sedan blow through a red light, nearly crashing into the pedestrians crossing the street, before skidding into a lamppost on the sidewalk. She heard Maura gasp beside her and instinctively squeezed her hand.

Frost and Korsak hurried forward to the scene, but Jane stayed back with Maura. She rubbed her eyes tiredly; it was too late to deal with Boston's terrible drivers. From the looks of things, Korsak and Frost had everything under control. The driver of the car hadn't done damage to anything but his vehicle and no one was injured, although one of the pedestrians was screaming at him. Clearly the uniforms could handle this one. Jane saw Korsak reach for his cell phone and she knew he was calling it in.

And that's when it happened.

The first gunshot took her completely by surprise. Jane whirled around, disoriented; _where had that come from_? She couldn't tell what the shooter had hit, or even where the shots had originated.

Korsak and Frost were still in front of her, still standing, not crying out in any pain. She knew Maura was still standing beside her, as the grip around her hand had suddenly become vice-like. Her heart was racing as she reached for her weapon. She was glad that she hadn't left it back at the precinct when they'd all gone out for drinks.

She never had a chance to take the shot. She remembered seeing the second car drive up, windows down, the flash of metal protruding over the side of the car. It was the image that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Maura!" Jane's scream was lost over the crack of the second gunshot. She could still feel Maura's hand in hers, but knew that the sticky sensation on her wrist had to be Maura's blood. She heard the screams of the civilians up by Korsak and Frost as more gunshots went off and had the split-second image of her partners pushing the civilians to the ground before her world went black. The last thing she remembered was holding Maura's hand – feeling her warmth next to her.

When she woke, Jane's hand was cold. She frantically tensed her fingers, but no one squeezed back.

Jane forced her eyes open. The scene had completely changed. Gone were the dark streets of Boston; they had been replaced by a room filled with white. Jane tried to speak, but something was covering her face. With one hand, she tried to pull the oxygen mask off, but something stilled her arm. Jane blinked; it was her mother.

"Janie," Angela whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm so glad you're awake."

Jane could see tears in her mother's eyes, but she knew they weren't from happiness. Something was wrong; something was very, very wrong. Alarmed, Jane bolted upright, ignoring her mother's cries of alarm. She yanked the oxygen mask from her face.

"Ma," Jane rasped. "What're you…?" Her voice trailed off when she noticed the two uniformed officers standing behind her. "What – what happened?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Angela opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She hiccupped, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You – you have a concussion," she got out finally.

"Ma, Ma." Jane rubbed her hand, trying to reassure her, even as her stomach clenched. A concussion at least explained why her head hurt, but it didn't explain her mother's tears. "Ma, don't cry," Jane said.

"It's okay, I'm okay."

But the realization hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. She was okay. What about Korsak and Frost?

What about _Maura_?

"Ma, where's Maura?" Her heart nearly stopped when Angela only sobbed harder. "Ma, where is she?" Jane asked, her pitch increasing. She looked at the two uniforms, frustrated that they were just standing there. "Do you two know where she is?" she snapped at them.

"Janie," Angela whispered. "Be nice."

"Tell me what happened to Maura," Jane demanded, forcing a note of calm into her voice. "She was right next to me. She's not here now. What happened to her?" Jane rubbed her mother's hand again.

"Ma, please, whatever happened, just tell me. I can take it."

She knew it was a lie, but she had to say something. Her mother's silence was worse than anything.

Angela couldn't meet her daughter's eyes. "She's gone, Jane. Maura's dead."

Jane couldn't move. Her eyes danced between her mother and the two cops guarding her room. Was this their idea of a joke? Was someone going to jump out from behind the ugly, checkered curtains giving the bed some privacy and shout "April Fools!"

No, it was September. Angela would never joke about losing Maura, not given all that she meant to Jane. Not given all she meant to all of them. Not given the fact that – no. Oh, God, _no_.

"Ma," Jane croaked, her heart breaking with every new second. One one-thousand, two one-thousand. Crack, crack. Jane's lips moved, but she couldn't force words to come out.

"Ma," she tried again. "Ma, the baby."

Jane felt numb as her mother collapsed into her arms. At least the useless uniforms had the decency to turn away. Jane's hands were patting her mother on the back, but she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't accept this. She refused. Maura couldn't be dead; she just couldn't be.

Jane let her mother cry, but she couldn't. She wanted to climb to the roof of the hospital and scream at the top of her lungs. But she couldn't. Because she had no oxygen. Because she couldn't move. Because she had no will.

Because without Maura, life just simply didn't go on.


	2. Little Light of Mine

hey, friends. happy monday! **la lisboa** and i are really excited by all the follows this story has gotten, but _please_ remember to leave a review to let us know what you think. it really helps us keep going, and we love hearing predictions and reactions to our work - even if it's just a quick note to say you liked it! that said, please enjoy this - it's one of my personal favorite chapters! and remember to check out **la lisboa**'s page, because this is her story, too.

as always, nothing you recognize belongs to us, etc.

* * *

It had been ten long years and some months since the worst night of her life. She remembered that night as though it were yesterday: the chill of a September night in Boston, the rustling of the autumn leaves. And then there were the other sounds, of gunshots and screams. And the pain and the blood. It was the night that everything had changed.

She remembered it as though it were yesterday, but the proof that it had been more than ten years ago was currently snuggling next to her on the couch. Her only reason to live; the only reason she hadn't killed herself for real after being torn away from Jane and everything else she had ever known.

"Mommy?"

Maura smiled. She would never get tired of hearing that name. "Yes, Phoebe?"

"Will you tell me again why we can't tell anyone who we are?" Phoebe asked, her voice soft and childlike.

Maura sighed and ran a hand through Phoebe's soft blonde curls, working up the courage to speak. It's a story she'd told many times before, but it never got any easier.

"Some time ago, not long before you were born," Maura began, "there was a very bad man and his gang who were out to get another bad man and _his_ gang. In Boston, where we're from, there are a few Irish crime families who are all enemies of each other."

Phoebe nodded into Maura's shoulder so her mother knew she was following along.

"One of the bosses of those families is a man named Patrick, or Paddy, Doyle. He is my biological father. And because of that, another crime boss started to go after me, because he knew that Paddy would be very upset if anything happened to me."

Phoebe tapped her mother's arm. "Tell me about your friend, Mommy," she said.

Maura smiled sadly, pressing a kiss to the top of Phoebe's head. "I had a wonderful friend, Phoebe. She was the love of my life, actually. She was a detective, and she protected me like no one else could. One night, we went out to dinner, and when we were leaving, the accident happened. It was dark, and I had no idea what was going on. One minute, I was holding Jane's hand, and the next, I was on the ground. I couldn't breathe."

Maura absentmindedly rubbed her chest, right below her clavicle. "When I woke up, I was in the hospital. There were strange men in suits surrounding my bed, and they told me that I had a price on my head. I would have to change my name and move away from Boston without telling anyone."

"Even Jane?" Phoebe asked, though she knew the answer.

"Even Jane," Maura replied. Phoebe squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"And if that weren't enough…" Phoebe prompted.

"And if that weren't enough, I was pregnant," Maura whispered.

"With me," Phoebe said, a note of pride in her voice.

"Yes, with you," Maura answered indulgently. "With my little light."

Phoebe fell silent and Maura stroked her daughter's arm. "I'm really going to miss you when you leave tomorrow," Maura said.

"I'm going to miss you, too," Phoebe whispered, suddenly sounding a lot younger than ten.

Maura pulled her daughter into a tight hug. "Are you sure you have everything? Do you have your-"

"I have clothes, toiletries, books, stationery, stamps, medicine, bedding, rain gear, cold weather wear, a flashlight, my laundry sack, and everything else I could possibly need," Phoebe replied with slight attitude. This was the fifth time they'd gone over the packing list, and each time Phoebe had tried to assure her mother that she had everything she required. Maura knew she was pestering, but she couldn't help but worry.

"Let's go over the rules, then," she said. She shifted so she was looking at Phoebe, who was chewing on her lip.

"Okay," Phoebe sighed quietly.

"Okay," Maura repeated. "You cannot reveal our location. You may say that we live in Maine, if someone asks, but you may not specify our city or address. Understood?"

Phoebe nodded.

"You should avoid having your picture taken at all cost. If there is a group photo, stick to the back."

"Okay," Phoebe said. She was shy, anyway, so Maura knew that rule didn't bother her as much.

"No personal information. Do not share details of our life or our family."

"I know."

Maura caught the dejected tone in her daughter's voice. "Phoebe," Maura placated. "This isn't just about keeping me safe - it's keeping you safe, too. There are bad people out there."

"I know that," Phoebe said. "But there are good people too, aren't there? And you are always so disappointed when I can't make friends, but how can I make friends if I can't tell them anything about myself?"

Maura frowned. "Just...be careful, okay? I trust you."

Phoebe smiled and threw her arms around her mother. "You're the best, Mommy!"

Maura smiled back "I love you, darling girl."

"I love you too, Mom."

Maura kissed the top of her daughter's head gently, then tugged Phoebe back to look at her. "Just to be safe, what's your name?"

Phoebe grimaced. "Phoebe Callahan."

"And what's mine?"

"Lily Callahan."

Maura smiled brightly. "Very good!"

Phoebe loosened her grip on her mother's waist, but reached a hand out to her. Maura grasped it, smoothing her thumb across the back of Phoebe's palm.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, my darling?"

Phoebe chewed on her lip for a second before saying what was on her mind. "Do you think I'll ever get to meet Jane?"

Maura frowned. "Phoebe…"

"It's just that, I know you're my mother," Phoebe said. "But if I was supposed to have two, it doesn't seem fair that I don't even _know_ her."

"What don't you know that you'd like to?" Maura asked.

"You mean, you'd tell me about her? Anything I wanted to know?"

Maura nodded. "Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

Phoebe shrugged sheepishly. "I suppose I never asked because...well, because I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"That's very generous of you, Phoebe," Maura smiled gently. "But I'm fine. Ask me anything."

Phoebe thought for a moment. "What did she look like?"

Maura's face was wistful. "She had long, dark curls, and big brown eyes; amazing cheekbones. She was tall and lean, and she was tough. She commanded a presence when she walked into the room."

"What things did she like to do?"

"She loved baseball," Maura answered. "She played field hockey when she was a little older than you...she loved soccer, too. But she also liked to box, and she was a fairly avid reader."

"Like me?" Phoebe asked excitedly.

Maura laughed lightly. "Well, perhaps not _quite_ as voracious as you. But she also loved her job very much, and spent most of her time solving crimes to keep the people of Boston - and us - safe."

"Do you think…" Phoebe stopped speaking, not daring to look up at her mother.

"Do I think what, Phoebe?"

Phoebe stared at her hands. "Do you think she would've liked me?"

Maura pulled Phoebe closer in to her side, nuzzling her hair lightly. "I know she would have," Maura affirmed. "She would have _loved _you, Phoebe."

"Oh," Phoebe answered. "Okay." She leaned her head on Maura's shoulder. "Mommy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Do you think I'll ever have a friend like Jane?"

Maura pressed her lips to her daughter's hair. "I hope, so very much, that you will have a friend like Jane."

"Do you miss her?" Phoebe asked, looking up into her mother's face.

"More than I can say," Maura murmured.

"I'm sorry," Phoebe said.

Maura shook her head. "It's not something you have to worry about, Phoebe. But you can help," she said.

"Really?"

Maura nodded. "It won't be a waste if we stay safe. The only reason we're not with Jane right now is because it's safer for all of us. So if you want to make me feel better? Please, be careful."

Phoebe nodded solemnly. "Okay, Mommy. I promise."

Maura kissed her daughter's forehead. "What's our motto?"

"Be safe, be smart, I love you," Phoebe repeated in unison with her mother. "I will, Mom."

"I know," Maura answered, resting her cheek on top of Phoebe's head. "I know."


	3. Welcome to Piney Creek

happy friday, y'all! we're introducing a new character this week - hopefully you love her as much as **la** **lisboa** and i do :)

as always, nothing you recognize belongs to us, etc. happy reading!

* * *

"Hi!"

Phoebe looked up from her book to see a girl with dark, curly hair and a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

"I'm Bex!" the girl said. "What's your name?"

Phoebe smiled, slightly uncomfortable with the proximity. "I'm Phoebe," she said quietly. "Did you know that you've got a patch of a dried brown substance on your cheek?"

Bex grinned, wrinkling her nose. She lifted a hand up to rub at her face. "I'm sure it's just mud, I was playing soccer with some of the girls from the cabin next door."

Phoebe felt very self-conscious as Bex surveyed her, and especially so when her eyes fell on the book. "Why are you sitting and reading? Don't you want to come and play with us?"

"I prefer solitary activities," Phoebe said. "But I appreciate your offer, thank you."

Bex shrugged. "Well, it's okay, they kicked me out for accidentally kicking a girl in the shins," she said. A mischievous grin crossed her face. "Okay, so maybe it wasn't an accident…but she fouled me first!"

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Phoebe muttered idly.

"You sound like my Nonna," Bex grumbled, but she smiled at Phoebe and plopped down on the stoop beside her. "What's your grandma like?"

Phoebe bookmarked her page and put the book aside. "I don't know my grandmother," she said, her expression neutral.

"Man, that sucks!" Bex exclaimed. "Is she, like, dead? I don't know what I'd do without Nonna - she's the coolest! And she makes the best gnocchi," Bex asserted, rubbing her stomach thoughtfully.

"Gnocchi," Phoebe repeated. "Rolled potato dumplings, often cooked and served like pasta, meaning boiled with sauce. Is your family Italian?"

Bex nodded. "Yep!" She tilted her head, peering up at Phoebe curiously. "Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?" Phoebe asked.

"Like a dictionary or something. It's like you've memorized Wikipedia. How old are you, anyway?"

"Ten and one-third," Phoebe responded. "My birthday is in March. When's yours?"

"I just turned ten," Bex answered. "Like, right before I came here. My family had this huge celebration – tons of people came. My two uncles, and my cousin, TJ. Some of my mom's friends from work stopped by, too. They're really cool, even though they're old."

"Cool," Phoebe echoed, not sure what else to say. Bex's energy was starting to intimidate her.

"Hey, feel free to tell me to shut up, if you like," Bex said suddenly, as though she had read Phoebe's mind. "My mom tells me to all the time. She says I just don't know when to keep my mouth shut. My Nonna says I learned it from her, though." She paused and gave Phoebe an encouraging smile. "My mom's a homicide detective. What does your mom do?"

Phoebe bit her lip. "She's a teacher," she said carefully. "She likes science."

Bex wrinkled her nose. "Oh, well…" She thought for a moment. "Wait, she's not a nun, is she?"

Phoebe smiled. "No, nuns cannot have children. Well, young children, anyway. Besides, we're not a particularly religious family. Why?"

Bex grinned widely. "Oh, good! 'Cause all my teachers are nuns, and they're awful." She leaned into Phoebe and whispered conspiratorially, "This one nun, Sister Winifred? The older kids call her Sister Bitcher."

Phoebe's mouth fell open in shock. "That's horrible!"

Bex folded her arms across her chest and scooted away. "Well, if you knew her, I bet you'd call her that too," she whined. "She's so mean! She made us clean around our desks every afternoon, and she always kept me in during recess," Bex pouted.

"Made? As in past tense?" Phoebe asked. "When was she your teacher?"

Bex slouched a little. "Second grade," she muttered. "But she always follows me around and stuff, like she's gonna catch me screwing up or something! And she's such a grouch!"

Phoebe nodded. "That does seem a tad unfair," she agreed. "Were any of the other sisters nicer?"

Bex nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah," she said. "I guess they're not all awful," she amended her earlier statement. "Just most of 'em are. But my teacher in fourth grade, Sister Mary Catherine? She was really cool," Bex smiled. "She seemed to actually like kids, unlike Sister Bi-Sister Winifred," Bex said, eyeing Phoebe uncomfortably. "The other thing about Sister Winnie is that she always called me Rebecca, which I hate," Bex moaned.

"Why do you hate it? Is that your full name?" Phoebe asked.

"No!" Bex yelled. "That's the problem! My full name is Becca, but Sister Winnie said that my mother was acting childishly and should've given me a proper name," Bex said.

Phoebe frowned. "Well, that's rather rude," she said. "She had no right to talk about your mother behind her back. She doesn't even know her."

Bex rolled her eyes, a grin creeping back onto her lips. "Oh, she knows her. She had my mom as a student, too," Bex said gleefully. "And let's just say that Mama wasn't exactly an angel."

Phoebe grinned. "I think I understand the saying, 'Like Mother, Like Daughter' a bit more clearly now."

Bex shifted to look at Phoebe. "What's your mother like? I mean, I know you said she's a teacher, but is she funny? My mom is funny."

"My mother is very smart," Phoebe said proudly. "And she's very kind, and I know she loves me."

"Well, of course she loves you," Bex said, her tone implying that she thought Phoebe was crazy. "She's your mom!"

Phoebe smiled uneasily, trying but failing to match Bex's easy-going personality. Making friends had never come easily to her, and Phoebe was starting to see why. She made other people uncomfortable; she could see even Bex's smile was faltering in her continued silence.

"She can be funny," Phoebe said finally.

Bex bit her lip and, for the first time, looked unsure of what she wanted to say. Phoebe shifted uncomfortably; she could see that Bex was surveying her carefully, perhaps deciding whether or not she would be her friend. She hoped that Bex would want to be her friend. It would be nice to have some good news to write home about for once. It would be a nice change from the phone calls home from the camp office that Phoebe was once again being bullied.

"You know, Phoebe, I think you're pretty strange," Bex said. "But I like you."

Phoebe heaved a sigh of relief. "You do?"

"Of course I do, silly!" Bex exclaimed. "Girls say I'm strange, too, because I only want to play the boy sports. Mama was the same way, though. Nonna says she's broken more bones than the rest of the family combined." She grinned at Phoebe. "So I'm strange, and you're strange. You wanna be strange together?"

Phoebe smiled shyly. "I'd like that."


	4. Trial and Error

hey guys! it's monday again, and you know what that means - new chapter! our favorite ladies are back in action in this one, and **la lisboa** and i sincerely hope you enjoy! as a reminder, please check out **la lisboa**'s page if you're interested in ouat (abc's once upon a time, s3 premiering on sunday!) or the mentalist, to name a few - this is her story too, so make sure to give her some love if you can.

as always, nothing you recognize belongs to us.

* * *

"No. Maura, no. Absolutely not."

Jane threw the profile across the bed toward her girlfriend. Maura looked up in surprise. "What? I thought he would have highly potent sperm."

"Yeah, potent because he's only fathered like twenty other children!" Jane exclaimed. "I do not want our kid going around Boston and one day discovering it has a bunch of clones."

"First, you should say he or she, not it," corrected Maura. "He, she, or they are the proper pronouns. Second, even if we used this donor, our child would not have 'a bunch of clones.' He or she would only be the half-sibling of this man's other children."

"Oh, that's comforting," Jane said sarcastically. "Maybe we can have a big family reunion for all the halfies. I'm sure _he or she_ would love that."

"Fine, we won't use his sperm," Maura said calmly, throwing the file into the discard pile along with all the others. "But we are going to have to pick one of these, you know. This is already the second batch of files the clinic has sent over. They're going to start thinking we're neurotic."

"Well, maybe I am!" Jane crossed her arms indignantly.

"There's only one file left," Maura reminded her. "It's going to be this one or your brother."

"What?" Jane yelped. "We are not using my brother's DNA. Ugh, gross, that's practically incest."

"Technically, if we use your ova, it would be incest," Maura pointed out. When Jane continued to stare at her, Maura laughed. "Jane, relax. I'm just kidding. If this doesn't work out, I'll just ask for more files. It's not big deal."

"It's not that," Jane said. "It's – what do you mean, if we use my eggs? I thought – I thought that _you_ were going to carry."

"Well…yes, I intend to try," Maura began. "But, Jane - what if something were to happen to me, or the baby? Especially with artificial insemination, there is a higher risk of miscarriages and stillbirths amongst women in the older age bracket, not to mention the chances that IUI just won't take," she said.

"You're not old, Maura!" Jane cried, affronted on her girlfriend's behalf. "You're younger than I am!"

"That may be true," Maura agreed thoughtfully. "But in the event that something were to happen, or that it turned out that my ova were no longer viable, wouldn't you want to have some of your eggs fertilized?" She squeezed Jane's hands. "I'm not saying we have to put them in you. But, just having the eggs ready, that would be twice the chance of success."

"I can't – Maura, I just can't carry a baby. I'm a homicide detective, I'm on my feet all day-"

"So am I," Maura reminded her.

"But I'm tackling perps!" Jane exclaimed. "I can't have a child inside me. I'm – what if I do something to it?"

"Jane, you won't do anything to the baby, I promise," Maura said patiently.

Jane sighed. "It's just, I just want to give this kid his best chance. He's got a better start with your DNA. What if he has to have mine?He's already going to have your DNA, so that's a good start, but what if we have to use mine?"

"What about yours?" Maura asked gently.

"Mine's – you know – dumb," Jane muttered. "I have the dumb genes, you have the smart ones. I didn't even go to college."

"Jane." Maura dropped the file she was reading and tilted her girlfriend's chin up so she was looking at her. "Your genes are perfect. You're gorgeous. You're brave. And you are smart. You're one of the smartest women I know."

Jane scoffed. "Don't lie. You're friends with doctors and artists and lawyers. You run in the circles of brilliant people. I'm nothing like them."

"No, you're better," Maura argued. "None of them could solve a homicide case. None of them know the streets of Boston like the back of their hand. None of them would put a bullet through their intestine to save anyone."

"Yeah, well that wasn't exactly smart," Jane said under her breath.

"You need to give yourself more credit. No matter whose DNA this child has, he or she will have you as a mother. And that means more than genetics. Nature isn't everything, you know." Maura paused, considering Jane's unhappy expression. "Is this why you didn't want to carry the child?" she asked gently. "Because you're embarrassed by your genes?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Jane rubbed her eyes. "Maybe?"

"Jane," Maura said, her expression softening. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. What can I say that will make you believe me?"

Jane sighed. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Maura. I just – I'm just new to all of this."

"We both are," Maura replied. "And it's okay to be nervous. It's natural, actually. But you really have to get this idea out of your head that you're going to find the perfect man to be the sperm donor. We don't need him to be perfect anyway. We just need someone with testicles."

Jane made a face. "Can you refrain from being so graphic, please? I'm having flashbacks."

Maura laughed, and Jane allowed herself a tiny smile. She would never grow tired of hearing that sound.

"I apologize, Jane," Maura said. "But I mean it – you are very intelligent. And even if you didn't go to college, you still got into Boston Cambridge University on your own merit. So don't fret too much over the sperm donor's worth – or your own." She smiled. "Besides, aren't you the one who's always told me that I'm nothing like Paddy Doyle? I could make a much stronger case for nurture than I could for nature. And with a mother like you, I think our child will be plenty nurtured." Maura beamed at her girlfriend, and Jane couldn't help but blush.

"Thanks, Mo," Jane said softly.

"You're welcome," Maura said. "Now," she continued, turning back to the files, "what do you think about this man?" Maura held up the last photo from the pile. Jane saw a young man, rather handsome, who had fair hair and a chiseled jaw. "His name is Chris, and he's a web designer. Oh, Jane, he's also a member of MENSA! And he loves the Red Sox, like you!"

Jane huffed. "He lives in Boston, doesn't he? It's practically illegal to dislike the Sox." But she was intrigued. "How many kids does he have already?"

"None," Maura replied, shaking her head. "He doesn't have any. It says…oh, Jane," Maura sighed. "It says that his partner of over a decade, Xavier, is battling cancer. He's doing this to make a little extra money for the hospital bills."

Jane's heart tugged. "Well…"

"And he's of both Irish and Italian heritage. He is extremely healthy, with no history of genetic disorder, and the only thing mildly worrisome is that he's…"

"What?" Jane asked in concern.

"He's going bald," Maura stage-whispered.

Jane laughed. "That's all?"

"This isn't a trivial matter, Jane! What if our son experiences teasing and humiliation due to early-onset male patterned baldness?"

"We'll buy him a toupee," Jane promised.

Maura frowned. "Jane…"

"I'm serious! If it turns out to be a problem, we'll fix it. But Maura, didn't you just tell me that genes aren't everything? Maybe we'll have a daughter, and this won't be an issue."

"I suppose you're right," Maura conceded. "So, are you saying yes to this one?"

Jane took a deep breath and grinned. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"This is our baby's father," Maura chastised her. "You can't guess, you have to be sure."

"Well if it's between him and Frankie…"

"Jane, you know I was kidding about that."

"Were you though?" Jane said skeptically. When Maura raised her eyebrows, Jane exclaimed, "Yes, yes, okay already! I'm sure!"

"Oh! I'm going to call the clinic right now!" Maura began to leave the room, excited as could be, but looped back around to reward Jane with a kiss. "I am so happy," she murmured into Jane's lips.

"Me too, babe," Jane said, kissing her again. "Me too."


	5. Nature or Nurture

it's friday, and you know what that means! more happy rizzles times! well, actually, we're back at piney creek, and hanging out with the babes. but you get the point. sending out copious loveballs to my p.i.c., **la lisboa**, who's been super patient and lovely with me as i battle various unknown illnesses - you da best, buddy! see you guys/gals on monday :)

as per usual, nothing you recognize belongs to us.

* * *

As Bex walked back to the bunk from her soccer session, muddy ball in hand, she spotted a girl sitting on the Spruce Cabin porch. It was Phoebe, the quiet girl in her cabin that she'd talked to the day before.

"Hey, Phoebe!" Bex yelled, waving with the hand that wasn't holding the ball to her chest.

Phoebe looked up from her book, startled, but gave a shy smile when she saw who was calling to her. "Hi, Bex," she said cheerfully. "Did you win your game?"

"Nah, it was just a scrimmage, so nobody really won."

Phoebe furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "Doesn't one keep score in scrimmages?"

"Well, yeah," Bex admitted, "but it's still not a real game."

"Did you have more points than the other side in the end?" Phoebe asked.

At this, Bex grinned proudly. "Yeah, we beat 'em six to two."

"So, you won!"

Bex shrugged her shoulders, but she was still smiling. "If you say so."

Bex plopped down on the deck stairs, keeping far enough away from Phoebe so that her stuff didn't get muddy, too. "What did you do today?" she asked. Normal activities hadn't started yet, because all the girls were trying out different things until they found groups they liked.

"I went to a cooking class, an archery class, and an art class," Phoebe listed.

"Were they any fun?"

Phoebe grinned. "The cooking class was the most fun, because you got to eat what you made! But I am concerned about my allergies," she said sadly.

Bex frowned. "What allergies?"

"Peanuts. I can't have peanuts, ever – I can't even be around someone who's been eating peanuts, because their breath could cause me to go into anaphylactic shock."

Bex looked bewildered. "Go into what?"

Phoebe smiled grimly. "Anaphylaxis is the scientific name for an allergic reaction. Have you ever seen a kid at your school get stung by a bee and swell up and get really red?" Bex nodded. "That's anaphylactic shock. It's the body's abnormal reaction to what it thinks is a foreign toxin. I have an epipen – a little tube of medicine that someone can put in my leg if I ever get sick – but I try to be as careful as possible." Phoebe paused, taking in Bex's confused expression. "I'm also sensitive to various outdoor allergens, but nothing is as bad for me as peanuts."

Bex frowned again. "No peanut butter and fluff sandwiches?" she asked sadly.

Phoebe tilted her head to the side. "What's fluff?"

Bex's eyes widened comically. "What is _fluff_? Only the most incredible sandwich spread or kind of food topping ever!" she exclaimed. "It's marshmallow goo! It's awesome!"

Phoebe shrugged. "I've never heard of it. I like sunbutter and marmalade sandwiches, personally."

"Never had sunbutter," Bex said. "But I think my Nonna puts marmalade on her toast." Phoebe didn't seem to know what to say to this, so Bex cast around for something else to say. She noticed something white sticking out from under Phoebe's book. "What's that?" she asked, pointing.

"Oh, a letter from my mom," Phoebe answered, smiling shyly.

"A letter already?" Bex said. "Wow, your mail must be really fast."

"I think she must have sent it when I was still at home," Phoebe said thoughtfully. "It doesn't say much, just more warnings about being careful. She hopes I'm having fun. You know, the usual letter fare."

"Did your dad write a letter, too?" Bex asked.

Phoebe shook her head. "I don't have a father, actually. I mean, I do, biologically, of course, but I was created in a lab.

Bex's eyes widened. "You were _what_?"

"Created in a lab," Phoebe repeated without a trace of embarrassment. "My mother had her eggs harvested and artificially inseminated in a specialized facility."

Bex frowned. Personally, she found that concept very strange, but Phoebe didn't seem to think it was odd. Not wanting to embarrass her new friend, Bex tried to think of something else to say. Finally she came up with, "So you've never met your father?"

"No," Phoebe responded. "But that's okay. I think my mom and I are perfectly happy together."

Bex smiled; she knew that feeling. "I've never met my father either," she said, glad to have something in common with Phoebe at last. "But I don't think it's because I was created in a lab."

"Well, there could be lots of reasons why you don't know your father," Phoebe reasoned. "What does your mother say about it?"

"About what?"

"About your father. Have you ever asked her?" Phoebe questioned.

"Oh," Bex said. "I guess I've never really asked her. I mean, she has two brothers, and they sort of do the 'dad' stuff with me, so I never really felt like anything was missing." Bex shifted uncomfortably. Maybe something was missing. Phoebe seemed to know a lot about how she'd been created, even though she didn't have a father. Bex wondered why her mother had never told her anything.

"Don't think too much about it," Phoebe said gently, noticing Bex's discomfort. "I apologize. I didn't mean to make you unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy," Bex said at once. Phoebe's smile was a little too understanding; Bex knew the other girl didn't believe her.

But Phoebe didn't press the point. Instead, she said, "There're so many ways to make a family these days. The nuclear family model isn't the only one."

"The what?"

"Oh – a nuclear family is one that has a mom, dad, and children. But you and I don't have that because we don't have dads. And that's okay," Phoebe assured her. "My mom says there's more than one way to be normal."

"My mom says the same thing!" Bex exclaimed.

"Does your mom date women, too?" Phoebe wanted to know.

Bex's eyes bulged. "What?"

"Oh – I just meant-" Phoebe fumbled. "I'm sorry. That was completely inappropriate of me."

"It's okay," Bex said. "But what did you mean by that?"

"I just meant – well, it's just, my mom said that when she explained to me that she was gay," Phoebe said.

"Huh." Bex frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think my mom is gay," she said. "I mean, she doesn't date much, but when she does, it's men. So, no, not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she added quickly, not wanting to insult her friend's mother.

Phoebe smiled. "I'm glad you think that, Bex. Not everyone is so open-minded."

"What do you mean?" Bex asked.

"Oh – just..." Phoebe sighed. "Well, some people still think of being gay as a bad thing. And then they use the word when they really mean "stupid" or "boring" because they think of all three of those concepts as being bad," Phoebe explained.

"Do people here do that?"

Phoebe nodded. "Unfortunately, yes," she said grimly. "You know that blonde girl in our cabin? Madison?"

"Oh, yeah," Bex said. Madison was her least favorite of all the girls in the Spruce Cabin.

"Well, I heard her calling some of the activities 'gay' yesterday."

"So what did you do?" Bex wanted to know.

"I told her off," Phoebe said. "Explained what 'gay' really meant, since she seemed misinformed."

"And what did she do?"

Phoebe sighed. "She laughed at me. Called me a know-it-all. Told me to mind my own business."

"That was rude!" Bex exclaimed, feeling her dislike for Madison increase.

"I know," Phoebe said simply. Bex got the feeling that Phoebe heard those mean things a lot.

"Well, if she says that again, send her my way," Bex said boldly. "I'll set her straight for you."

Phoebe's eyes widened. "You would do that – for me?"

"Of course!" Bex said. "You're my friend, and Madison's your enemy. So that makes her my enemy, too."

Phoebe smiled. "You're my friend?" she asked quietly.

"Duh," Bex said, rolling her eyes in amusement.

"I've never made a friend this easily before," Phoebe said, sounding amazed at herself. "Thank you, Bex!"

"You're thanking me for being your friend?"

"Is that – not what friends do?"

Bex laughed. "You have a lot to learn, Bee," she said, using the first nickname that came to mind. Phoebe seemed delighted by the name. "But don't worry, I'll teach you how to be an awesome friend. And I'll be the best friend you've ever had!"


	6. Be Not Afraid

monday funday! mushy gushy rizzles comin' atcha :)

on a slightly extraneous note, you remember that thing of how **la lisboa** is my co-pilot on this fic? well, we both watch _once upon a time_, and she is writing this killer au based on disney's tangled (emma as rapunzel, regina as gotham, graham as flynn) - if either of those things are up your alley, you should totally check it out!

and now for your regularly scheduled programming. none you recognize are belong to us.

* * *

She couldn't quite say it was the thunderstorm that had woken her up, since she wasn't sure she'd ever fallen asleep to begin with.

Jane rolled over so her back was to Maura, her face in her hands. She just couldn't get this case out of her head. It had been a long time since a case had affected her this badly, especially one that was already closed. Just thinking about it made her feel sick to her stomach.

As quietly as she could, Jane swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Maybe some tea would help her fall asleep, or at least calm her mind. She was just about to stand up when she felt a hand on her wrist.

"Jane?"

She turned around. "I'm sorry, Mo, did I wake you?" she whispered.

"No, I think it was the storm." Maura sat up and cupped Jane's cheek. "What's wrong, beautiful?"

Jane sighed and kissed Maura's palm. "The case."

Maura furrowed her brow. "The Adams case? It's over now. Didn't you get a confession?"

Jane nodded.

Maura offered her a comforting smile. "The ones with kids are always the hardest, Jane. Isn't that what you always say?"

Jane nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.

"I know it hurts," Maura whispered. "Seeing someone so young in my morgue hurts me, too. Especially now." Maura unconsciously touched her stomach. Jane rested her hand over hers.

"It's not just that, Mo."

"What is it, then?"

Jane swallowed. She hadn't wanted to upset Maura with the details of the confession, had wanted to spare her that heartbreak. But knowing what the confessed murderer, a fifteen-year-old girl, had done, and why, was eating her alive from the inside.

"She did it because she was being bullied, Maura. She killed her bully. Kelly Adams, that girl in your morgue, was bullying her because she was _gay._"

Maura inhaled sharply. "Oh, Jane."

"Because she was _gay_, Maura. That's – that's a hate crime. God, she was only fifteen. I mean, could she really have known that early?"

"She could have," Maura said gently. "It's not uncommon."

"I can't – I just can't get this out of my head," Jane admitted. "I think they're gonna try her as an adult, Mo. She could go to jail for the rest of her life. It's – it's not fair."

Maura leaned her head on Jane's shoulder. "No, it isn't fair," she agreed.

"And-" Jane hesitated, trying to put her fear into words. "And I just – I can't help but think – _worry_ – that something like this will happen to our kid."

Maura raised her head and frowned. "You know that there is no evidence to back up the claim that children raised by gay parents are more likely to be gay."

"I know that," Jane said. "And that's not what I meant." She sighed. "I meant – god, Maura, this sounds so stupid – but what if – what if-"

"It's not stupid," Maura assured her.

Jane swallowed. "What if our kid kills someone because we're gay?"

Maura's frown deepened. "What?"

"I mean – what if other kids are making fun of our kid for having two moms? And what if he, you know, kills them over it?"

"Jane," Maura whispered. "That's never going to happen. I mean – the teasing could happen, it's true," she admitted. "But we are going to raise a child who is strong and smart and will use words and not actions. We're going to raise a child who will set anyone straight who tries to tell them that his or her mothers are going to hell, or are wrong, or weird, or whatever else. We are not going to raise someone who resorts to murder."

"You're right." Jane smiled weakly. "I'm just being silly."

"You're not," Maura assured her. "Your concerns are completely valid."

Jane exhaled. "Do you ever think about whether it's going to be hard for our kid, having two moms?"

"It's crossed my mind," Maura admitted. "And I'm afraid you're probably right that there will be some people who don't accept our relationship, or that our child has two mothers. And you may even be right that he or she will be teased because of it. But…" she trailed off. Jane nodded, prompting Maura to continue. "Jane, there's next to no evidence to support the idea that our child could turn into a violent killer because someone was cruel."

Jane hung her head, and Maura continued. "I don't mean to invalidate your feelings, Jane, and I'm sorry if it's come off that way. But let's think about this rationally, alright? This Zaro girl…Tessa, right? Tessa was gay herself. This was a personal attack, and she retaliated out of hurt and anger. Obviously it got out of hand, but she was propelled by fear of being injured or worse. Even if our child does face bullying, it won't necessarily be because he or she is gay. It's a fundamental difference, Jane."

"I guess," Jane replied. "I just…you didn't see Tessa, Maur," Jane continued quietly. "You didn't see the way her face crumpled when she confessed. You didn't hear how she begged me to shoot her, because she knew she deserved to die." Jane clenched her hands into fists as the painful memory washed over her. "I couldn't bear to listen, Maura," she admitted. "I had Korsak finish the statement. If I couldn't handle a stranger, how could I ever handle my own child feeling that way?"

"What way?" Maura asked gently.

"Like he or she wants to die."

"Jane," Maura said softly, pulling Jane down to snuggle with her. Jane felt Maura running her fingers through her long, tangled hair. "You know I can't promise you that's never going to happen. But I _can_ promise you that we will raise a child who will feel safe and loved, and that we will do everything we can to protect him or her." She kissed Jane's forehead. "Let's think positive thoughts, and wait until something happens. It won't do us any good to worry over what may be," Maura said. "Is that alright?"

Jane nodded into Maura's shoulder.

"As for the Adams case, maybe there's still something you can do for Tessa," Maura said thoughtfully. "You still have to testify at the trial, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jane mumbled.

"Well, maybe you can get her case talked down from trying her as an adult to trying her as a minor. Or maybe lessen the charge. It seems to me that she was provoked, and that it definitely wasn't pre-meditated. So maybe she'll get a lesser sentence, with the possibility of parole or probation if she's committed to doing better."

"Yeah, maybe," Jane said. She felt a little lighter now that she'd talked to Maura. "I should've talked to you sooner," she told her girlfriend.

Maura laughed. "Of course you should have. But I thought I'd let you try to figure it out on your own before I intervened."

"You mean-you _knew_ something was up?" Jane asked.

"Jane, sweetheart," Maura placated. "You're not the most subtle creature."

"But you didn't say anything," Jane said in bewilderment.

"I knew you'd come to me when you were ready. You don't like to be rushed," Maura said with a smile.

Jane smiled self-deprecatingly. "You know me too well."


	7. Clinical Trials

the babes are back! thank you dearly for your support, and please remember to leave a review if you get a chance - we love hearing from you! when do you think the girls are gonna realize they're sisters? who will figure it out first? will jane and maura be reunited?

as always, anything you recognize does not belong to **la lisboa** or to me (go check out her page! she's the best).

* * *

Bex had grown used to seeing Phoebe sitting on the porch of the cabin when she awoke in the morning, so it was mildly distressing to her to walk out to an empty deck. Phoebe was an early riser, but always waited until Bex got dressed to walk with her friend to breakfast. Bex went back inside, on a one-in-a-million hunch that Phoebe had slept through her alarm, but the blonde's bed was empty. It was unmade, though, leading Bex to suspect that something was amiss.

Just as she was starting to panic, her head counselor walked in to make sure all the girls were up and moving around, if not ready to go just yet.

"Molly!" Bex said, relief creeping into her tone. "Have you seen Phoebe? Normally, she's outside reading by now, but she's not in the cabin, and-"

Molly frowned, and Bex grew nervous. "Jess and I had to take her to the clinic last night," Molly answered carefully. "She appeared to be having an allergic reaction. I just came back from checking on her, and she's okay now, but she needs to get some rest."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Bex asked indignantly.

"It was the middle of the night, Bex," Molly replied. "We weren't going to wake you just to tell you Phoebe was going to the clinic."

"Well, can I go see her?" Bex asked quickly.

"Maybe after your activities," Molly said. "Some girls from another bunk came down with the flu, and we can't have you getting sick also."

Bex was not satisfied with that answer, but said nothing. She didn't say much at breakfast, but picked at her food. None of the other girls really talked to her anyway, since they were mostly interested in the pullout posters of dreamy teen boys from the magazines that Gabby's mother had included in her latest care package. Bex rolled her eyes at their shallowness – _her_ mother had sent some silly string, makings for water balloons, and lots of homemade snacks for her and Phoebe.

Bex sat up a bit straighter. She'd said that Phoebe had a peanut allergy – a _very severe_ peanut allergy, she'd made sure to emphasize – but Nonna had included some blondies in the mix of things she sent. What if that was the reason that Phoebe had gotten sick?

Ten minutes later, Bex followed the rest of her cabin to the arts and crafts cottage with a heavy heart. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible for getting Phoebe sick. But there was nothing she could do about that now.

Bex grabbed a smock from the cupboard and got out some supplies to make Phoebe a "Get Well Soon" card. She took a few sheets of construction paper, some scissors, a box of markers, a bottle of glue, an empty egg carton, and a jar of yellow paint. For Mother's Day the past year, Bex's class had been taught how to make daffodil buds using egg cartons. Since Bex couldn't get real flowers for Phoebe, she figured this might be the closest thing to them.

"I was just _trying _to be nice. I didn't know she was like deathly allergic to peanuts. It's not like I got her sick on purpose."

Bex stiffened and turned back around. Madison was chatting away with some of the other girls from Spruce Cabin and didn't seem the least bit concerned that she was responsible for sending Phoebe to the clinic. Bex marched back to Madison's table. She was going to set her straight.

"Everyone knows that Phoebe is allergic to peanut butter," Bex pointed out loudly. "Molly said that on the first day."

"Oh, sorry," Madison said, not sounding sorry at all. "But I swear I didn't mean to get Dweebie sick. It was an accident," she giggled.

Bex tried to mask her fury as indifference, but she could feel her blood boiling. She turned on her heel and returned to her own table.

"I really am sorry she's sick!" Madison called to her. "You losers are cute together."

"Leave me alone, Madison!" Bex snapped.

"Fine. That's all you'll ever be, anyway."

Bex was fuming. She had never met anyone as mean as Madison before, and she certainly wasn't going to let her get away with what she'd done to Phoebe. The only question now was what to do about it.

She pondered during swim class. She plotted during kickball. She planned during music, and during lunch, she percolated. By the afternoon free block, Bex had come up with the most perfect idea. As soon as the other girls had gone off to sit in the sun, Bex took the care package from her mom out from underneath her and Phoebe's bed.

"Bex? Are you in here?" Bex froze at the sound of Molly's voice. She was trapped – there was no way out but the door Molly had just come in.

"Bex?"

Thinking quickly, Bex shoved the box back under the bunk and stood at attention. "Yeah?" she called back.

"Did you want to go see Phoebe now?" Molly asked, making her way through the partition that separated the two halves of the cabin. "I have permission from Nurse Holloway to let Phoebe have a visitor."

"Yes, please!" Bex said, straightening up. Maybe Phoebe would have some ideas on how to get back at Madison. She grabbed the bouquet of flowers she'd made for Phoebe in art class from Phoebe's bed. Bex had tried to make it for her – she knew the other girl would be devastated if her area was left messy – but hadn't done a very good job. Phoebe's corners were much crisper, but Bex hoped that Phoebe would appreciate the gesture when she felt better.

Bex trailed behind Molly the whole way to the clinic. When they got there, Nurse Holloway pointed the way to Phoebe's bed, and Bex dashed to the back of the clinic, ignoring admonishments from her counselor and the nurse.

"Bee!" Bex exclaimed when she was finally reunited with her friend. "I brought you presents."

"Thank you, Bex," Phoebe said happily. Her lips were slightly inflamed, and she had red polka dots all over her face, but Bex was glad to see she was still smiling. She put the cardboard flowers in a small vase by her bed and propped the card up on her nightstand. Phoebe scooted over to make room for Bex next to her on the bed.

"So I was thinking…" Bex beckoned Phoebe closer, not wanting Molly to overhear. "I know how you got sick. It was Madison and her peanut butter cookies, right?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said. "She offered me one last night."

"Right," Bex said. "Which was dumb, because she should know you're allergic. So I was thinking about what we should do to her. You know, to get back at her. For what she did to you."

"Okay," Phoebe said slowly.

"And I was thinking," Bex whispered excitedly. "I have all these water balloons that my mom sent me, right? So I was thinking we could fill them with water and make whoopee cushions out of them."

"What are whoopee cushions?" Phoebe asked.

"Oh, they're like these toys that make a fart sound when you sit on them," Bex explained. "But ours would be filled with water, and we'd put them in her bed, so when Madison lies down to go to sleep, she'd crush them and get her stuff all soaked!" Bex turned to Phoebe, grinning. "What do you think?"

"Well…" Phoebe bit her lip.

"Do you have a better idea?" Bex asked.

"No," Phoebe said. "It's just that…I'm not sure we should be doing this at all."

"What do you mean?" Bex cried indignantly. "Madison's the whole reason you're in here. She _deserves_ this."

"Do you know who Mahatma Gandhi is?"

"What?" Bex couldn't understand why Phoebe cared. "No. Who?"

"He's a famous pacifist from India. Practiced non-violent tactics," Phoebe explained.

"Oh," Bex replied. "But I mean, this isn't violent."

"No, it isn't," Phoebe admitted. "But it's still a form of revenge. As Gandhi himself once said, 'An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.'"

Bex frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that if you get revenge on Madison for what she did to me, it's just going to make her want to hurt you. And if she does, you'll want to hurt her back, and then she'll hurt you back, and it'll never end."

"But she deserves it," Bex insisted. "Look what she did to you!"

"It was probably an accident," Phoebe said.

Bex rolled her eyes. She knew for a fact that it wasn't, but somehow she didn't think that would convince Phoebe.

"You really don't want me to do it?" Bex asked.

Phoebe shook her head. "I'd really prefer if you didn't."

Bex sighed. She didn't like that she wouldn't be able to make Madison pay for what she'd done to Phoebe, but it felt wrong to do something to Madison if Phoebe didn't want her to. "Well, okay," Bex said slowly. "I mean, if you're sure."

"I am." Phoebe said firmly. "My mother always says that if you are sure of yourself, you don't need validation from anyone else."

Bex cocked her head. "What's validation?"

"Uh…" Phoebe thought for a moment. "It's like someone telling you something you already know. It's also what happens when you park your car and get the ticket stamped, but that's different," Phoebe said with a small giggle.

"Oh," Bex said, unsure what else to say.

Phoebe seemed to notice her friend was uncomfortable. She smiled kindly. "Look, Becca. I really appreciate that you wanted to get back at Madison for me. I don't know many people who would do that."

Bex frowned. "But I thought you said-"

"But," Phoebe interrupted her gently. "I know even fewer people who would change their minds to make me happy. So thank you for that."

Bex finally understood what Phoebe was saying and grinned. "You're welcome."


	8. Ready or Not

hey, y'all! early post today because i have a midterm and a self-defense seminar this afternoon. oy to the vey.

listen, if you haven't checked out **la lisboa**'s _i see the lights_ yet, it's a seriously good read! and, you know, she's the best.

happy reading!

* * *

"Oh, Jane," Maura said, her voice brimming with excitement. "I've just found the most _perfect_ name!"

Jane stopped herself from rolling her eyes, shifting from her spot on the couch to look at her girlfriend. "Lay it on me, Mo."

"It means _with healing power_ in Greek," Maura gushed. "And it's so lovely!"

"Maura," Jane said, a note of warning in her voice. "What's the name?"

"Althea," Maura breathed.

Jane groaned. "Maura, we've been over this. Do you _want_ our child to be persecuted on the playground?"

Maura pouted. "Of course not, Jane! But did you know that Althea Gibson was the first African-American tennis player to win at Wimbledon? And Althea was the pseudonym for Richard Lovelace's paramour in his poetry. And the name Althea comes from the scientific name for the marshmal-"

"Enough!" Jane said. "What would we call her? Al? I refuse to call her Thea, or whatever."

"Why would you name your child something you don't intend to address her as?" Maura asked. "That seems to defeat the purpose of having a name in the first place."

"Well, my family calls me Janie," Jane defended. "And I call you Maur and Mo and all sorts of nicknames, and you've never seemed to mind."

Maura tilted her head to the side in consideration. "I don't," she admitted. "I think they're sweet."

"Thank you," Jane huffed.

"But I don't think we should choose or not choose a name based solely on nickname potential. You really think that's why your mother named you Jane?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "No," she begrudged. Maura raised her eyebrows. "_Fine_," she groused. "But Althea's still out."

Maura sighed. "Why don't you suggest a few names, then?"

"I don't know," Jane said, shrugging. "What's wrong with Alexandra? Or Emily?"

"Nothing," Maura said slowly. "But why do you like those names?"

"I don't know, because they're easy to pronounce?"

"They're easy to pronounce?" Maura repeated, frowning.

"Yeah!" Jane defended. "I mean, you do _not_ want to be that kid who always has to correct a teacher on how to pronounce a name."

Maura's frown deepened. "Well, that's wrong with that? It would be appropriate to correct a teacher in that instance.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Not because it would be _rude_, Goody Two-Shoes. Because it's _embarrassing_."

"Oh." Maura said. "But why is that embarrassing?"

"Because you're the center of attention, and not in a good way," Jane explained patiently. "Having a weird name is the first reason kids will make fun of you. I mean, they don't know anything else about you except your name, and that's the first piece of information they have. So they go with it. If it's strange, they'll find words that rhyme with it. Absurd rhymes, you know, like-"

"Like 'Roly Poly Rizzoli eats cannoli,'" Maura finished for her.

"Yes, like that."

"Jane." Maura touched her arm gently. "Just because you had a bad experience with names and rhymes in school doesn't mean our child will."

Jane sighed. "I know. But I don't want him to have a target on his back from the get-go."

Maura nodded. "I understand. But I don't want our child to have a plain name, either."

"You mean, like Jane?" Jane asked, mock-hurt lacing her tone.

"Oh, Jane, I didn't mean-" Maura narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend. "Ha ha, Jane, very funny."

"It's true, though!" Jane agreed. "Jane is plain. Plain is Jane."

Maura leaned over and kissed her. "You, my love, are anything but plain." Maura kissed her again and then sat back. "Maybe plain was the wrong word. I just want to give our child a meaningful name."

"Can it be meaningful without being impossible to pronounce?" Jane asked.

Maura smiled. "Yes, it can." She took Jane's hand, tracing circles in her girlfriend's palm with her thumb. "Can I ask you something though?"

"If this is another Greek name, I'm putting my foot down," Jane said warningly.

"No, it's not that," Maura said, shaking her head. "It's just – when you refer to our child, you call our child a 'he.' You always use the male pronoun. Does that mean you're hoping for a boy?"

"No," Jane said. "I just say 'he' because it's not 'it' and it's less awkward than saying 'he' or 'she.' Or 'he/she', which is just offensive."

Maura smiled uncertainly. "So – does that mean you want a girl?"

"I don't know what I want, Maur," Jane said. "I just want a healthy, happy baby."

Maura placed her free hand over her stomach. "And you'll have that," she promised. "But – I just – I was just wondering if you, you know, had any preferences."

"Why?" Jane asked curiously. "Do you?"

"I – well, happy and healthy is good…" Maura trailed off.

"But?" Jane prompted.

"But…" Maura bit her lip. "Never mind – forget it."

"Maura," Jane drawled. "Think of the hives. You can't lie about this."

Maura sighed, looking down at her hands. "I guess I – I mean-" Maura swallowed, gathering her thoughts. "I – well, okay."

"Later that same day," Jane muttered.

"Sorry." Maura blushed. "It's just – I'm embarrassed to admit this."

"Don't be," Jane said gently. "I won't hold it against you."

Maura smiled weakly. "I guess it's just…whenever I imagine our child, I always picture her as a girl."

Jane nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" Maura repeated.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" Jane shrugged. "I mean, you can't picture the child as a skin-colored blob."

"I'm – I'm not sure you understand," Maura said. "Jane, I – I picture her as a girl because I can't – I don't know if I could raise a boy."

"Why not?" Jane asked seriously.

Maura swallowed. "Well, I don't know anything about them. I never had any brothers."

"Well, it's not like Frankie and Tommy are epitomes of model boy behavior," Jane joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Maura sighed. "That's not…I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't apologize, Maura, you haven't done anything wrong," Jane said with concern. "C'mon, tell me why you can't raise a boy. I won't interrupt."

"Because boys are messy!" Maura burst out. "And-and boys are more likely to be bullies, and boys like sports and trucks and mud and I like ballet and going to the opera," she finished.

Jane laughed heartily, but then quieted as she saw Maura's upset face. "Oh, Maura, c'mon," she calmed. "Girls can be like that, too. I mean, look at me! Ma wanted a ballerina pianist, and she got an aggressive slob instead. If we had a girl, she could turn out like you, or like me, or like neither of us."

"I suppose you're right," Maura conceded. "I just…I want our child to like me," she whispered. "Not just love me, I know that they will. But I mean _like_ me, sincerely enjoy being around me. I don't always want to be the…what's the expression? 'Bad cop'?"

Jane smiled lightly. "That's good, Maur, yeah," she said. "And that's okay. We'll both be bad cop sometimes, and we'll both be good cop sometimes. That's how parenting works. And, for what it's worth," Jane said, nuzzling Maura's neck softly, "for all the times I remember being at odds with Ma, there are maybe twice as many times I remember just hanging out with her, being mother and daughter. It'll happen, okay? I promise."

Maura rested her head atop Jane's, scooting back down beneath the covers. "You'd better not leave me alone with a boy," she warned.

"I would never leave you, Maura," Jane swore.

"Okay." Maura accepted that as truth, and kissed Jane sweetly. "I'd never leave you, either."


	9. Six Little Monkeys

sorry for the late update, guys - i have been traveling today because it's my fall break! being home feels awesome :)

considering the sad fact that **la lisboa** is stuck at school, learning about stem and leaf plots, perhaps you could give her some love? she's got a really cool tangled-inspired once upon a time fic called _i see the lights_, and it's an awesome read. check it out if you get a chance!

as always, nothing you recognize belongs to us.

* * *

"Hey, Phoebe," Madison called across the cabin. "What's the capital of Maine?"

Phoebe looked up from the magazine she'd been flipping through with Bex on her top bunk. "Augusta," she called back.

"What about the capital of New York?"

"Albany," Phoebe answered easily. "A lot of people think it's New York City, though."

"Wow, you're really smart," Madison said.

"Yeah," Gabby chimed in. "I never knew Albany was the capital of New York."

"Thanks," Phoebe said shyly.

Bex narrowed her eyes. She knew that Phoebe couldn't hear the sarcasm in their tone, but she could. She wanted to say something, but decided to hold her tongue. She'd gotten in trouble enough lately, and Phoebe didn't seem too bothered by it.

"Hey, Phoebe!" This time it was Gabby's voice that traveled across the cabin. Bex groaned inwardly. "What's the definition of _cretin_?"

Phoebe paused for a second, looking at Bex with worried eyes. "Um, _cretin_ is a noun, meaning an obnoxious, stupid person." Her voice trembled, and Bex placed her arm around Phoebe's shoulders.

"Just ignore them," she whispered in her friend's ear. "They'll stop."

"Hey, Phoebe-"

"Ignore it," Bex repeated, louder this time, hoping the other girls would take the hint.

"Pheee-beeee-"

"Leave us alone, you guys," Bex yelled back, losing her patience at last. "She doesn't want to answer any of your dumb questions, okay?"

"Who said we were talking to you?" Madison said. "We were talking to the genius over there, not you, you stupid tomboy."

Bex could feel her anger rising. She had wanted to get back at Madison ever since she'd sent Phoebe to the clinic with her peanut butter cookies. Bex was used to mean girls calling her names because she was different. And Madison was exactly the type of girl she hated: blonde, blue-eyed, and brainless. Her mother had always said to hold her head high and ignore them, because they were just jealous. She also said to use words, not actions. Bex tried to remember that advice now as she relaxed her clenched fists.

"Whatever," Bex said, turning back to the magazine. "You're just mad that I'm better at soccer than you."

Madison and Gabby scoffed. "Why would we want to be good at stupid sport like soccer anyway?"

"Oh, I forgot," Bex snapped back. "You're more interested in being good at doing your hair."

"Bex." Phoebe tugged on her shirt sleeve worriedly as the girls started advancing on their bunk bed. "What happened to ignoring them?"

Madison and Gabby, along with two of their other friends, were standing by Phoebe's bottom bunk. "You wanna come down here and say that to my face?" Gabby said, staring up at them.

Bex stayed silent. She knew she could hold her own in a fight, but doubted Phoebe could. She was stockier than Phoebe, and had years of sports like soccer, hockey, and lacrosse under her belt to have built up muscle tone and stamina. Phoebe, on the other hand, was willowy and delicate, and her activities were more along the lines of chess, ballet, and archery – skills of mind, not necessarily body. Bex would rather let the bullies win this round than put her friend in harm's way.

"What's your problem, Bex?" one of the other girls, Chloe, taunted. "You don't wanna fight? I thought you were like one of the boys."

Bex's dark eyes blazed. "Leave me alone. Molly will be back soon," she warned. The pretty girls never wanted to get in trouble; that was another one of her mother's rules. Just remind them of the authority figures. That was enough to make them stop.

Unfortunately, it seemed like that was only the case when the authority figures were nuns. Before Bex could stop her, Gabby had scrambled up the ladder and grabbed the closest thing she could find: Phoebe's hair.

"OW!" Phoebe screamed loudly. Bex could see tears in her friend's eyes, and that was the last straw.

"Lay off her, she hasn't done anything to you!" Bex shouted. When Gabby didn't let go, Bex lifted her hand and slapped her across the face. Gabby released Phoebe's curls immediately, her eyes wide and furious.

Bex gasped. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry – I didn't mean to-"

With a single gesture that caught Bex off guard, Madison's cronies launched at her. Gabby went for her legs, while Chloe and Olivia each grabbed at an arm. Phoebe yelled at them to stop, and then yelled for Molly. But it all happened so fast - Gabby knocked Bex off balance, and as Bex tried to fend off Chloe, Olivia latched on to Bex's arm and pulled. In a moment, Bex was on the ground. Her wrist had snapped from the weight and pressure of the fall.

"Ow!" she screamed, flailing her legs to get the girls away from her. Gabby was temporarily flung to the side, but quickly reattached herself to Bex.

"Bex! What's wrong?" Phoebe asked, terrified by the pained tears in her friend's eyes. "Get away from her!" Phoebe shrieked, scrambling down the ladder and flapping at the girls still pinning Bex down. "Get off!"

By this point, the other Spruce campers had gathered to see what all the commotion was about, but not a single one of them was moving. Phoebe looked at them with disgust.

"Go get Molly!" she yelled. "Bex is hurt, she needs help! Someone get Molly!" All her politeness and tact had flown out the window the minute that Bex had cried out in distress. No one was listening to her, and she was getting infuriated.

"Get off of her!" Phoebe said again, clawing at Olivia, who had stilled on top of Bex's injured arm. Her nails dug into Olivia's arm, and the other girl squealed and scooted away. Phoebe took the opportunity to dive in next to Bex and try to calm her friend.

"Bex, it's okay," she murmured. Bex's wrist was already swelling, and Phoebe bit her lip at the discoloration blooming underneath the olive skin. "Does it hurt anywhere besides your arm?"

Bex shook her head weakly. "No. I'm okay, Bee," she said.

"Can you sit up?" Phoebe asked. Bex slowly lifted her back off the ground, and Phoebe grabbed her good wrist to pull her up all the way.

"Ouch," Bex whimpered, her left wrist jostling slightly as she stood.

"Oh, it's okay," Phoebe soothed. "We're gonna get some help, okay?" She glared back at the three girls still lying on the floor, and Madison, who was standing uncomfortably by the bunk. "This isn't over," she promised evenly. "What goes around, comes around."

Helping Bex lay her good arm across her shoulders, Phoebe slowly led Bex out of the main cabin and onto the path, looking for their counselor, who was on watch that night. Her shift was supposed to be over, soon, but Bex couldn't wait.

Phoebe squinted into the darkness, the only illumination coming from lanterns and flashlights that the counselors carried with them. She spotted their assistant counselor, Jess, talking to one of the Juniper counselors from next door.

"Jessica!" Phoebe cried. "Bex is hurt, really badly," she said, dragging her friend across the gravel path. "I think her wrist is broken."

"Phoebe?" Jess asked. "Oh my gosh, what happened?"

"Um," Bex started.

"Olivia pulled Bex off the top bunk," Phoebe growled. Everyone Bex was a little taken aback to hear the her normally soft-spoken girl friend so fierce. "Madison and her friends were picking on me, and Bex tried to stop them, and then they made her fall!"

"Jess?" Bex was relieved to hear the head counselor's voice.

"Molly," Jess said. "Bex broke her wrist, we think. Apparently there was a scuffle in the cabin, and Bex fell off the top bunk."

Molly held up her lantern to Bex's wrist and gasped. "Oh my God," she breathed. "Yeah, we've got to get you to a hospital, kiddo."

"Well, come on, then!" Phoebe said impatiently. Bex nodded - they were both frustrated at the amount of time this was taking.

"No, Phoebe," Molly warned. "You've got to stay here."

"No way!" Bex and Phoebe spoke in unison.

"Yes way," Molly said sharply. "Look, this is an emergency. We don't have permission to remove campers from the grounds unless it's an emergency."

"Well, I'm not going unless Phoebe comes," Bex said firmly.

"Bex, don't be ridiculous," Phoebe whispered. "You need to get your arm set!"

"They're after you, too!" Bex cried dramatically. "If I'm not here to protect you-"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Molly said. "Fine, okay? Fine. Phoebe, help Bex to the van. Follow me, okay? Bex, you let us know if you need anything."

"Actually," Bex said sheepishly. "Could someone get Scruffles?"

"What?" Molly asked, stopping once more.

"Her stuffed puppy," Phoebe answered quickly. "It's on her bed. Would you also please grab a pillow? It'll keep her arm cushioned during the car ride.

"Jess, did you hear all that?" Molly called back to the assistant counselor.

"Yeah, I'll be right back!" she yelled, already running towards the cabin.

It only took a minute for Jess to come back with the two items, and Phoebe tucked Scruffles under her arm while Molly took the pillow.

Bex moaned slightly, but she tried to be brave for Phoebe's sake. When they got to the camp van, Phoebe and Molly helped her into the backseat. Phoebe put the pillow on Bex's lap, keeping her arm steady while Molly hooked her seatbelt. Then Phoebe let her hold Scruffles with her other hand, and she climbed in on the other side of the car.

"You all set, Phoebe?" Molly asked as she switched off her lantern and stuck the key in the ignition.

"Yes," Phoebe answered. She leaned over and gave Bex a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm very proud of you, Becca," she said fondly.

"Aw, it was nothin'," Bex said modestly.

"No," Phoebe insisted. "It was _everything_."


	10. Protect and Defend

i may have lied to some of you...this chapter is not jane in the hospital, but rather another rizzles flashback. oops? sorry if you got you hopes up - but hey, at least rizzles is adorable!

as you know, nothing you recognize belongs to **la lisboa** or me.

* * *

"Jane?" Maura asked softly, rolling over to face her lover. "Jane?"

Jane grumbled something in her sleep, and Maura poked her shoulder.

"Jaaane," Maura whispered. "Janie?"

"_What_, Maura?" Jane groused, only half-awake.

"Jane, I'm hungry," Maura pouted.

"The kitchen is right down the hall," Jane mumbled sleepily. "Goodnight."

"But Jane, we don't have what I want to eat here," Maura said. "And besides, I'm with child. The increase in hormonal production during pregnancy causes many women to experience cravings of certain kinds of food, usually salty, sweet, and sour things. Plus, as you know, I've been having quite a bit of morning sic-"

"Yes, I do know, so we don't need to discuss it," Jane growled.

"-kness, and I've lost much of my appetite due to the nausea. So don't you want to make sure that your girlfriend and child have sufficient nutrients?"

"Ugh!" Jane cried, sliding out of bed with a thump. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it's working."

Maura smiled. "That's very sweet of you to get up, Jane. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh, for chrissakes," Jane muttered. "What do you want, Maura?"

"I need chocolate," Maura announced, sitting up straighter. "But not just any chocolate, Jane. I need Sharffen Berger, between 50% and 60% cacao. Nothing higher, okay? Higher is not necessarily better, and my taste buds are particularly sensitive to bitterness, as it's the first trimester."

Jane's eyes widened. "You need Sharpie what?"

"Sharffen Berger," Maura repeated slowly, emphasizing each syllable.

"That sounds like a cheeseburger," Jane grumbled.

"It's not," Maura said patiently. "It's chocolate."

"Maura, chocolate is Hershey's Kisses and Reese's Cups. I've never even heard of this. Where am I supposed to get some?"

"Oh, the local grocery store sells it," Maura said brightly.

Jane glanced at the clock. "It's three in the morning!" she exclaimed.

"It's twenty-four hours," Maura pointed out.

Jane groaned. "You have keys. Your right foot works. You can drive yourself. I'll stay here and sleep, like normal people do at three in the morning." She covered her head with her hands..

"Jane," Maura drawled, poking her side lightly. "You're really going to let your pregnant girlfriend go to the store by herself all alone in the middle of the night when there's a serial rapist out there?"

"Jesus, Maura!" Jane raised her head, throwing up her hands. "All right, all right, I'll go. But _you're_ coming, too."

"Do I have to put on a bra?" Maura wanted to know.

Jane shrugged. "Just put on a sweatshirt. No one's looking at this hour anyway."

Ten minutes later, Jane pulled her car into the empty parking lot outside the grocery store. The late night September air was chillier than she'd expected and she pulled Maura closer to her, shielding her from the cold.

"You owe me," she murmured into Maura's hair. "You owe me big."

Maura grinned. "I'm sure I'll find a way to make it up to you."

As Jane had predicted, the grocery store was completely empty except for one bored-looking cashier. He glanced up when they entered and surveyed them, a lewd expression on his face.

"Ugh," Jane groaned, tugging at Maura's arm. "Can we go yet? This places gives me the creeps."

"Five minutes," Maura promised.

Thankfully Maura knew where the chocolate was located and they found themselves at the check-out register in no time. Jane quickly pulled out her wallet to pay. She wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Her gut was sending off warning bells. She thought about mentioning this to Maura, but then remembered what her girlfriend always said about listening to her intestines.

"Thanks for stopping by, ladies," the cashier said with a toothy grin. Jane didn't bother to respond as she practically dragged Maura out the door and back to the car. She let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as soon as they stepped outside.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Jane," Maura said sincerely as they walked back, hand-in-hand, to the car. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

"It's fine, Mo," Jane said absently. Her stomach was clenched. Something felt very, very wrong. Jane reached into her pocket, fingers curling around her off-duty weapon.

"Jane?" Maura said with concern. She must have noticed how Jane's hand had become tensed in her own. "What is it?"

There was a flash of silver and Jane drew her weapon. "Drop it!" she shouted, ignoring Maura's gasp. "Drop it now!"

A bulky guy of middling height – and with a ski mask on – dropped the switchblade the minute he saw Jane's gun. Hitching up his pants, he lumbered off into the night. Jane tore after him, but he disappeared once outside of the dimly-lit parking lot. Jane tapped her fingers on her gun, debating whether it was worth following him, trying to track him down, but then decided against it. He hadn't hurt them and she had Maura to think about.

The parking lot was empty when she came back. Jane's heart began to race. "Maura!" she shouted. "Maura, where are you?"

Maura emerged from behind Jane's car, her face streaked with tears. Jane hurried toward her.

"Oh, Jane, oh Jane," Maura sobbed, practically falling into Jane's arms as soon as Jane reached her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried over and over.

"Maura, it's all right," Jane said, rubbing her back. "Come on, get in the car. Let's go home."

Maura cried the entire way back to the house. Jane kept one hand on her girlfriend's knee the entire time, and she could feel Maura shaking. Jane longed to take her in her arms and comfort her, but she wanted to get as far away from the parking lot as possible.

Jane led Maura into the house and sat her down on the couch. She placed the chocolate bars on the coffee table, but it seemed like Maura had completely forgotten about those.

"I'm so sorry, Jane," Maura whispered.

Jane took one look at Maura's puffy red eyes and then pulled her toward her. "No, I'm sorry, Mo. I shouldn't have made you come with me."

Maura hiccupped. "I don't – I don't know why I'm being like this. I've seen you confront perpetrators before."

"Maybe it's the hormones," Jane suggested.

Maura shook her head. "I can't – I just can't – what if something had happened to you? And it's all my fault, I made you go. I shouldn't have made you go, Jane." Jane hugged her tighter as Maura's body began to tremble with renewed sobs. "I'm so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you."

"I'm fine, Maura," Jane assured her, somewhat bewilderedly. "Really. I'm not hurt, and you're not hurt. Protecting you, that's my job. That's what I do every day."

"But what if something had _happened_?" Maura asked tearfully. "Why did you have to run after him? I couldn't bear to be without you, Jane. Especially not now that we have a child."

"You don't have to worry, Maura," Jane said tenderly. "I know what I'm doing. And as reckless as I was before we were together, that's as careful as I'm trying to be now. I will always protect you, Mo. You and this baby."

Maura sniffled. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "I love you, Jane," Maura whispered. "I'd do anything for you. I would die for you."

"I know, Maura," Jane said, kissing her girlfriend's head. "But please don't. Because I couldn't bear to be without you, either."


	11. Girl's Best Friend

happy friday! i hope you like this chapter, because sweet bbs being sweet is always fun to write :)

as always, nothing you recognize belongs to me or to **la lisboa**.

* * *

Phoebe hadn't been allowed to accompany Bex to the x-ray or the casting, although she did get to keep Scruffles for company (Bex called it puppy-sitting). She petted the stuffed dog's worn coat absently while Bex was getting examined. She wasn't looking forward to Molly's questions about what had happened. She wanted to be truthful, but she didn't want to get Bex in trouble.

"Phoebe?"

She looked up from Scruffles, knowing what was coming. "Yes?"

"Are you ready to talk about what happened back there?" Molly asked gently.

Phoebe bit her lip. "At first, everything was alright. I didn't know that the girls were teasing me – they just kept asking me questions, and I answered the ones I knew." Phoebe didn't mention that answering those questions was child's play to her. "But Bex got mad, because they were bothering us, and then they started teasing her. You know what happened after that," Phoebe said, shifting uncomfortably.

"So, they went from teasing you and Bex to breaking her wrist?" Molly asked, frowning.

Phoebe felt itchy bumps creeping up her neck as she tried to avoid the question. _Oh, dear_, she thought, knowing that she'd break out in hives if she tried to lie. "Well…not exactly," Phoebe said quietly. "Bex said some mean things as well. And she slapped Gabby. But she apologized right after!" Phoebe exclaimed, sticking up for her friend. "And even if she hadn't, what they did is much worse."

"You really care for her," Molly observed.

Phoebe squirmed a bit. "Of course," she answered. "Bex is the best friend I've ever had."

"Best friends are very special things," Molly agreed. "My best friend is named Emily," she said. "We've been friends for as long as I can remember. If anything ever happened to her, I don't know what I would do."

Phoebe was silent, unsure of where her counselor was headed with this.

"If someone ever said something mean to Emily, I'd probably slap her too," Molly said, giving Phoebe a quick wink.

Phoebe grinned hopefully. "So Bex isn't in trouble?"

"If she apologized, then I'll have the girls apologize back, and make sure you girls are separated for the remainder of the summer. We'll also have to call their parents to tell them what happened."

Phoebe squealed and wrapped her arms around Molly's waist. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Don't thank me just yet," Molly said sternly. "Bex is going to have to call her parents, too, and tell them what happened."

Phoebe sighed, her hazel eyes widening at the thought of what Bex's Nonna would say. "Oh, dear," she said quietly, which made Molly laugh.

"Are you here for Becca Rizzoli?" A white-coated doctor suddenly entered the nearly empty waiting room.

"Yes," Molly said, standing. Phoebe followed suit, clutching Scruffles to her chest. "Yes, I'm her camp counselor, and this is her friend Phoebe. Can we see her now?"

"I'm Dr. Nolan," she replied, smiling at them. Phoebe noted her perfectly straight teeth. "And yes, you can. Do you know if her parents have been notified yet?"

"I haven't called them yet," Molly admitted. "I usually let the child do that. It's less scary coming from them, especially when they're calling from the hospital."

Dr. Nolan laughed. "I know what you mean. I'm asking because – well, for two reasons, actually. The first is because we need parental permission in order to release her to you."

Molly nodded. "Okay."

"And the second is because, with an injury like this, falling from that height, we usually like to keep children overnight for observation."

Phoebe's eyes widened. "Something's wrong with Bex?"

"No, not necessarily," Dr. Nolan said, smiling reassuringly at her. "We just want to make sure there are no neurological symptoms – uh, I mean-"

"Neurological symptoms," Phoebe repeated. "Like slurred speech, blurred vision, headaches, nausea. You think she hit her head?"

Phoebe didn't miss the look of surprise the doctor exchanged with Molly. "Yes, that's right," Dr. Nolan said. "You're a really bright girl."

"Thanks," Phoebe said uncertainly, looking down at her shoes. After the incident at the cabin, she couldn't tell if the doctor was paying her a real compliment or teasing her.

"You wanna be a doctor someday?" Dr. Nolan asked.

"Maybe," Phoebe said quietly, glancing up. But Dr. Nolan's eyes were kind. "I'd like that," she said, a little louder. "But, Dr. Nolan?" The doctor nodded, which she took as a sign to continue. "Will you please take us to see Bex now?" she asked, smiling as endearingly as she could muster.

Dr. Nolan smiled back. "Absolutely! Follow me."

Molly let Phoebe lead the way as they followed Dr. Nolan down the quiet hall, their tennis shoes squeaking slightly on the linoleum tiles. Soon enough, Dr. Nolan turned left into a room, and Phoebe squealed softly when she saw Bex propped up in the bed, a bright green cast on her right arm.

"Bex!" she said, running over to her friend. "How are you feeling?"

Bex grinned weakly. "I've been better," she admitted. But, seeing Phoebe's worried face, she backpedaled. "I mean, I'm fine, Bee. Just a little achy."

"Well, you did fall off your bed," Phoebe said. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I'm glad I'm okay, too," Bex said cheekily. "And I'm glad that you're here."

"Of course!" Phoebe exclaimed. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Just then, Phoebe felt Molly's hand on her shoulder. She moved aside to make room for the counselor to step up to the bed.

"Bex, did Dr. Nolan tell you that you were going to stay overnight for observation?" she asked.

Bex's eyes widened. "Is Phoebe staying, too?"

Molly bit her lip. "I don't know, Bex…" She sighed. "Technically, she's not supposed to-"

"But _technically_, she's already here," Bex pointed out.

"Yes, that," Molly said, nodding. "And since I'm still responsible for you, I can't leave you here by yourself while I take Phoebe back to camp."

"I guess she'll just have to stay then!" Bex grinned.

"I can call down for a cot," Dr. Nolan offered. "And someone will need to do the admit papers."

"Yes, please," Molly said. "And I can sign her in. Are you okay with staying, Phoebe?"

"Yeah!" Phoebe exclaimed. Bex smiled at her.

"One more thing, though, Bex," Molly said once Dr. Nolan had left the room. "You're going to have to call your parents and tell them what happened."

"Oh, no," Bex groaned. "My mom's going to freak. Do I have to do it now?"

"I'm afraid you do," Molly said, although Phoebe saw she was smiling as she handed Bex her cellphone. "The hospital can't discharge you without parental permission, so you're going to have to do it sooner or later. Let's make it sooner."

Phoebe caught Bex's unhappy expression as she took the cellphone with her good hand. Phoebe pushed Scruffles closer to Bex for moral support as she dialed.

"This isn't going to be pretty," Bex warned as the phone started ringing.

"I'm going to go do those papers now then," Molly said, winking at Phoebe. Phoebe scrambled up next to Bex on the bed.

"Nonna? Hi – Nonna? Can I talk to Mama?" Bex sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes at Phoebe. "_May_ I talk to Mama, please? Yes, it's important. Well, can you wake her up? I know, but – okay. Well, okay. Don't freak out, but I'm in the hospital-"

"YOU'RE WHERE?" Phoebe pulled back in alarm upon hearing Bex's Nonna screaming through the phone. "THE HOSPITAL?"

"Yes, please, calm down, Nonna," Bex said. "I'm okay, really!"

"YOU'RE IN THE HOSPITAL, YOU'RE CLEARLY NOT OKAY! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?"

Bex bit her lip and Phoebe put her arm around her shoulders. This certainly wasn't going well. "I – I fell off my bunk and broke my wrist."

"YOU DID WHAT?"

"Nonna, you'll wake Mama!" Bex said indignantly. "I thought you said she needed to sleep! Can you just put Uncle Frankie on the phone, please?"

"FRANKIE! BEX NEEDS TO SPEAK WITH YOU!"

There was a long pause, and then Phoebe could faintly hear Bex's Nonna telling her son what had happened. Bex turned up the volume of the phone so Phoebe could hear, too.

"Bex?" another voice, male, and much calmer, came on the line. "What's wrong?"

"Hi, Zio," Bex said. "I kind of – I broke my wrist."

"Uh oh," Frankie said. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Well, I'm in the hospital."

"Oh, that's – oh, Jane, hi."_ My mom_, Bex mouthed to Phoebe. "It's Bex, yeah. She says she broke her wrist. I don't know how! She just said she broke it. Well why don't you - Okay, here."

"Bex?"

"Hi, Mama."

"Are you okay?" Even though Bex's mother sounded exhausted, Phoebe could still hear the concern in her voice. She hugged her knees to her chest. She suddenly missed her own mother very much.

"Yeah." Phoebe could tell Bex was trying to be brave, but she saw her friend's lower lip trembling all the same. She probably missed her mom a lot, too.

"Where are you now?"

"The hospital. I'm supposed to stay overnight."

"Which one?"

"Um, I don't know," Bex said. "The closest one to camp, I guess?"

There was a pause on the other end, and then a faint "Got a location!"

"Frankie says he found it," Phoebe heard. "We're leaving Boston now, okay? Just hang in there, Becca. Have Scruffles give you an extra hug, from me."

"Okay, Mama," Bex whispered. "Love you."

"I love you, too." There was a click and the line went dead. Phoebe took the phone from her and set it on the small table next to the bed.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" she said. When Bex didn't reply, but continued staring at Scruffles, Phoebe leaned closer and whispered, "It's okay to cry, you know. I won't tell anyone."

Bex sniffled. "I'm not crying. I – I just really miss my mom."

Phoebe pulled her in for a hug, mindful of her broken wrist, so only Bex could hear her whispered admission.

"I miss mine, too."


	12. Past Counterfactual

get your tissues out, kids, this is a heartbreaker! but it's the beginning of the big reveal, so get excited :)

all the love in the world to my buddy and co-author, **la lisboa**, and nothing you recognize belongs to us.

* * *

The rain came thick and fast on that cold October morning, as though the whole world was mourning the occasion. It rained all through the hour-long ceremony and had only increased in intensity since the ceremony had ended. Pools of mud had already formed alongside the road, and the mud stuck to Jane's boots as she marched.

She'd walked her mother to the car, but she wasn't ready to leave just yet. She ignored her mother's protests as she returned to the recently unveiled tombstone. She didn't care about catching cold (she maintained that was an urban myth, anyway) or ruining her shoes, or anything else, really. The only thing she cared about was six feet below the muddy, rain-soaked ground.

In the month since Maura's death, Jane had barely moved. After being released from the hospital, she'd retired to the couch where she lay in the fetal position for the days leading up to the funeral. Nothing anyone said made any difference. No matter how many times she'd been told it wasn't her fault, Jane knew deep down that it was. She'd seen the gun, but hadn't been able to stop it from firing. Why hadn't she pushed Maura down after hearing the first shots? Why hadn't she realized that Maura had been the true target?

Three days after Maura's death, Frost and Korsak had stopped by to tell her what had happened. It had been an organized hit, ordered by someone on Danny Boy Flanagan's payroll. The driver of the car that had crashed into the lamppost had also been in on it; his job had been to distract them from the shooter. And it had worked. And for that, Jane could never forgive herself.

Jane finally reached the tombstone. The stone was still too fresh, the letters too precisely cut. She'd barely said a word throughout the ceremony, unable to vocalize everything that Maura had meant to her. Hope had done a very nice speech, or so Jane was told. If she were being honest with herself, she'd admit she'd barely heard a word of it.

It was strange, standing here, in front of Maura's gravestone now. How many times had Hope done exactly the same thing, coming to cry in front of a tombstone for baby Maura? But at least that tombstone turned out to mark the spot of an empty grave. This one, Jane knew, was very much real.

"Hey, Maura," Jane rasped, her voice having been sorely underused and abused the last few weeks. "I, um…well, I'm feeling pretty awful right now. And normally, I'd talk to you about it, because you always know-" Jane inhaled sharply and paused to collect herself.

"You always _knew_ exactly what to say to me to make me feel better. And no one knows what to say to me now. I don't know what to say to me now," Jane wrapped her arms around herself as the rain came down harder.

"I don't know what to say to you either. '_I'm sorry_' – I mean, that's just not enough. You have no idea how sorry I am; I can't even – there are no words." Jane swallowed back the rising lump in her throat.

"And I'm just thinking over and over how much I wish it had been me." Jane pressed her lips together, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from cascading down her already soaked face. This, this confession that she hadn't admitted to anyone, not to her mother, not to Korsak and Frost, and certainly not to the department shrink she would rather die than see, was killing her. "I should've been protecting you, Maura! I should've been right there the whole time. But I wasn't. I was – distracted, I don't know. The gunshots, I didn't know where they came from. And I was looking at Frost and at Korsak, and everywhere that wasn't you." Jane stopped herself. These sounded like excuses, and she didn't want to excuse or justify her behavior. There was no justification for what she had done. There was only what she should have done differently.

"But I wasn't," Jane repeated. Her whole body clenched with self-loathing. "And now I've got to live with that. I have to face my mother every morning, knowing that I denied her a daughter-in-law. Knowing that I denied her a grandchild." Jane tossed her soaking curls away from her face, rubbing her eyes with the back of a hand.

"God, Maura, you would be handling this so much better than I am. I'm a total disaster. I'm selfish, Maura. So incredibly selfish that I don't want to live without you. It should be me down there, Maura. God, it should have been me. I said I would die for you, but I – I didn't. And I hate myself for that. I just want to curl up in a ball and die." Jane was shaking now, and she knew it wasn't just from the cold.

"But I'm not going to do that because I know you would hate me for it. So I'm going to find the son-of-a-bitch who did this to you and I'm going to put my gun to his head and pull the trigger."

Jane placed her hand on the tombstone and knelt before it. She leaned her head against the wet marble, as though doing so would bring her close to Maura again. Her eyes fell on the bouquet before the somber slab.

"I did my research," she mumbled. "Red roses, love, because that's what you gave me and all I felt for you. Ivy, unending devotion and fidelity, because that's what we had together – what we'll always have together. And lilies," Jane held back a sob. "Calla lilies, because I know they were your favorite..._calla_ means beautiful in Greek, did you know that? I'm sure you did, but just in case…" Jane couldn't say that calla lilies also represent sorrow, and were often placed at the graves of those who died too young.

Jane smiled sadly. "You're going to be such a beautiful angel in heaven, Mo. You'll have to watch over me now. I mean, you've always done that, but now more than ever. You're gonna have to make sure I don't mess this up. You know you would have been better at it than I will be." Jane swallowed hard.

"You know we should be doing it together."

She stared at the grave for another minute, but couldn't think of anything else to say. Jane cast one long look at the tombstone and flowers and then turned away. She barely noticed on the way back to the car that it had stopped raining.

It was time to go to the clinic.


	13. Maura's Eyes

okay, okay, it's the chapter you've all been waiting for! isn't it much more satisfying knowing that you've earned it?

life has sucked majorly this week, so thanks to **la** **lisboa** for being a friend. also, we own nothing you recognize.

* * *

Jane rushed into Mount Desert Island Hospital, Frankie hot on her heels. It had taken her longer than expected to get there, and Frankie driving like their ninety-year old grandmother hadn't helped matters (it also hadn't helped that she'd read the map wrong, but semantics). If she'd had it her way, Frankie wouldn't have come at all, but Ma had been insistent. To be fair, she did have a point: as desperate as she was to make it up to Maine, Jane knew it probably wasn't the best decision to do so when she hadn't slept in 36 hours.

The hospital was eerily silent at six in the morning as Jane and Frankie made their way down the hall. Jane stopped at the first reception desk she saw.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" the woman at the desk asked Jane.

Jane grimaced at the title. "Yes, hi," Jane greeted tiredly. "My daughter's counselor brought her in last night with a broken wrist? Becca Rizzoli."

"She's right down the hall in the pediatric wing," the nurse smiled kindly. "Room 137." The nurse glanced at her and then added, "And there's coffee in the cafeteria."

Jane ignored Frankie's snicker. "Thanks," she said instead, mustering a smile. "C'mon, Frankie," she beckoned to her little brother.

They reached Bex's room a few minutes later. Jane was about to push the door open when Frankie raised his arm and knocked.

"What are you doing?" Jane hissed, grabbing his hand. "You'll wake them up!"

"You can't enter without knocking, it's rude," he argued back. "Besides, don't you plan on waking them up when you go in anyway?"

"That is not the point-"

Jane suddenly fell silent when the door opened and a young woman with brown braids and glasses stepped out. She offered them a tired smile. "You must be Mrs. Rizzoli."

"Um, it's Detective," Jane corrected awkwardly. "Are you Molly?"

"I'm sorry, Detective," Molly amended. "And yes, Molly Barnes, Bex and Phoebe's head counselor. Thanks for coming up on such short notice."

Jane nodded. "Of course. How's she doing?"

"Okay, I think," Molly replied. "She's still sleeping. And she's got a friend in there with her."

"Scruffles," Jane said, nodding knowingly.

"No." Molly frowned. "I meant a human friend."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "Oh."

"We normally don't allow that," Molly assured her. "But she made a very compelling case."

Jane smiled; she could just imagine. "I'm sure she did."

"Would you like some coffee?" Molly asked. "Bex is still asleep-"

"No, I'm not!" Bex's voice came from inside the room.

"I'd love some coffee," Frankie told Molly, rubbing a hand across his stubbly chin. "Shall we?"

Molly smiled at him, bidding Jane goodbye. Jane was grateful that her brother left her alone to talk to Bex – she wasn't great at the mushy stuff to begin with, but it was even worse with an audience.

"Hey, baby," Jane rasped as she walked into the room. "Did we wake you?"

"Nah, I was up," Bex shrugged. "My arm hurts, and like, this bed is not very comfy."

Jane frowned. "Do you want me to get a nurse?"

Bex shook her head, which made Jane smile. She knew if the roles were reversed, she would have refused the pain medication, too. As Jane pulled up a chair, she caught sight of the sleeping girl beside her daughter. "Who's this, Becca?"

Bex glared at her mother, pressing the index finger of her good hand to her lips dramatically. "Shh, Mama! She's still sleeping! Her name is Phoebe and she's my best friend."

Jane stifled a laugh at Bex's theatrics. "Sorry, sorry. So she's a _best_ friend, huh? That's different."

"Yeah, well," Bex fiddled with one of Scruffles' paws. "So is she."

Jane smiled. Sometimes Bex reminded her so much of herself. Even though Bex was outgoing, making friends didn't come easily to her.

"You gonna introduce me to this best friend?"

"Not while she's sleeping!" Bex hissed.

Jane grinned. "Fine. Want to tell me what happened instead?"

Bex looked down at the sheets, twisting a knot in them with her fingers. "I fell off my bed."

Jane sighed, smoothing an errant curl off her daughter's forehead. "You fell off your bed, huh?" she repeated. "How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?"

"I didn't do it on _purpose,_" Bex protested. "And I didn't fall so much as…was pushed."

"Someone pushed you off your bed?" Jane's eyes widened. "C'mon, Bug," Jane prodded when Bex didn't elaborate. She knew Bex thought she was too old for baby nicknames, but Jane loved this one too much to let it go. It reminded her of her snuggly lovebug toddler – not to mention the fact that Bex had liked to bring caterpillars home from kindergarten in her backpack. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Right," Bex whispered, still not meeting Jane's eyes. "But I also know you don't like fighting."

"You're right about that," Jane said. "You know what I always say, Becca."

"Words not actions," Bex supplied. "And I tried that but – I just…those girls are so _awful_, Mama," Bex whined softly. "It's okay when they're mean to me, because I'm tough."

Jane smiled fondly.

"But they were teasing Bee, just 'cause she's smarter than they are, and it isn't _fair_!"

"No, you're right," Jane said. "It's never fair when someone's being teased, especially for something they can't help. But that still doesn't give you the right to fight."

"I tried not to!" Bex insisted. "I mean, I remembered to relax, and I told them that Molly would be back soon and that she'd handle it," Bex explained.

"That was very good," Jane praised.

"And then it was just words, you know? I said they were just jealous, and they wanted to know why they should be jealous of me. Whatever," Bex said, rolling her eyes. "But then…then this girl Gabby came up to my bunk, and she was pulling on Bee's hair and she wouldn't stop so I – I slapped her," Bex said shamefacedly.

"Phoebe never said anything about pulling hair," Molly said suddenly, entering the room with a steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in her hand. Frankie trailed after her, handing one of the two cups in his hands to Jane. Jane accepted the coffee with a grateful smile. Her brother knew her too well.

"Is that really what happened, Bex?" Molly asked. "Phoebe didn't tell me that part of the story."

Bex nodded. "_Yes_. I wouldn't have touched Gabby if she hadn't hurt Phoebe first. I was going to wait for you. But I just got so mad and she wouldn't let go, and I just – it was an accident. And I apologized right away! But Gabby was mad at me, and she and her friends came up to the top bunk and…"

"…and they pushed you off the bed?" Jane finished. She hadn't even met these girls, but she was ready to throw her badge at them. Get them charged with assault. Stick them in juvenile detention until they turned 25.

"Yeah," Bex finished quietly.

Jane turned around to look at Molly. She was heartened to see the head counselor looked just as outraged as Jane felt.

"I want you to know we take these accusations very seriously, Detective Rizzoli," Molly said when she noticed Jane looking at her. "We don't tolerate this kind of behavior, ever. If you'll excuse me, I need to call my superior. She'll help me decide what should be done with these campers."

Jane nodded and Molly left. Jane sighed as she turned back to Bex. "That was very brave of you to stand up for your friend, Bug," Jane said. "I'm proud of you."

Bex smiled broadly. "That's what Bee told me last night."

"Who's Bee?" Frankie wanted to know.

"I am," came another girl's voice.

Bex's friend was awake and slowly sitting up. Jane turned around and her breath caught in her throat.

The girl had Maura's eyes.


	14. Questions of Science

you _guys_ - y'all are awesome! **la lisboa** and i might have to write cliffhangers more often, because boy did y'all turn up in the reviews to get your feels aired out! we love it, so keep those thoughts coming!

right now, though, it's time for breakfast ;)

* * *

Phoebe pushed the hair off her forehead, frizzed and messy from sleep. Bex's mom was looking at her strangely. As Phoebe rubbed her eyes and Bex's mother came into sharper focus, she felt her heart skip a beat.

_Dark, curly hair. Friendly brown eyes. Impressive bone structure._ Bex had told Phoebe the first time they met that her mother was a homicide detective. She had driven up from Boston. And that name…_Jane_.

"Hello," she greeted timidly. "I'm Phoebe Callahan."

"Jane Rizzoli," Bex's mom answered, after a slight shake of her head. She reached out to shake Phoebe's hand. Phoebe hoped Bex's mother couldn't feel her pulse racing as they made contact.

_I'm shaking hands with Jane._

_I've found my mother's best friend._

_She's my mother, too._

Jane glanced back at another man and Molly, who were still standing by the door. "This is my younger brother, Frankie."

"It's very nice to meet you, Detectives Rizzoli. Becca's told me a lot of wonderful things about your family," Phoebe said with a smile, directing her statement at both adults. She could feel her stomach bursting with excitement and fought to keep her voice even. She knew she couldn't say anything about her mother to Jane – she couldn't even explain to Jane how she knew who she was – and the knowledge she had to stay silent made her heart ache.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Phoebe, but please call me Jane." Frankie echoed his sister's sentiment, and Jane grinned. "And _Becca_ has told me lots of wonderful things about you as well." Jane paused and then added, "She lets you call her Becca?"

Phoebe glanced over at Bex, a worried look in her eyes, and noticed that her friend was blushing. "Should I not call you that? Does it bother you?"

"Of course not, Bee," Bex soothed, shooting a glare at her gleeful mother. "If it did, I would've said something."

"Okay," Phoebe replied, but her voice was unsure.

"I'm starving," Jane suddenly announced. "Who wants to get some breakfast?"

"Oh, me!" Bex cried, waving her good arm. "You hungry, Bee?"

"Oh, well," Phoebe said nervously. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Hospital food is crap, Janie," Frankie whined, and Bex stifled a giggle while Phoebe stifled a gasp.

"Who said anything about _hospital_ food?" Jane asked with a disdainful expression. She looked at Molly. "Is it alright if my brother and I take the girls out for breakfast?"

_Girls. _The word echoed in Phoebe's head. She was part of a set. She had never been part of a set before. She belonged with someone. She belonged with Bex.

_Bex._

_Bex is my sister._

The realization left Phoebe momentarily stunned. She couldn't even hear Molly's reply. She wondered why her mom had never told her that Jane had been pregnant, too. What if she hadn't known? Phoebe remembered that Bex was about three months younger than her. It was entirely possible that Jane had gotten pregnant with Bex after her mother had…

"Bee? Bee? Are you listening to me?"

Bex's voice (Phoebe tried hard not to think _her sister's voice_) pulled her back to the present. "I'm sorry, what, Bex?" she asked, a blush creeping up her neck.

"I asked where you wanted to go," Bex said, brushing aside her apology. "Molly said we could go anywhere, but we just have to be back here by eight. That's when the doctor comes."

"Oh." Phoebe shifted on the bed. That gave her just less than two whole hours with her…family.

"Um, I don't know," Phoebe said when she realized they were still waiting for her to answer. "What's around here?"

"There's a diner not too far from here," Molly said. "We counselors sometimes go there on our nights off – they're open 24 hours."

"Sounds good to me," Jane said. "What do you think, ladies?"

"Yum!" Bex enthused.

Phoebe gave a little shrug. "I don't much care either way," she said diplomatically.

"Don't I get a say?" Frankie asked.

Jane shot him a look. "Is there a problem?"

He shook his head and winked at the girls. Bex giggled again.

_So this is what it's like with family,_ Phoebe thought. She smiled to herself.

Then Phoebe was struck by a terrifying notion. "We don't have any clothes, Bex!" she said.

"We're wearing clothes," Bex shrugged. "It's like six in the morning, Bee. No one will care that we're wearing our pajamas."

Bee flushed in embarrassment as she climbed out of the bed. She felt severely underdressed in a pair of pink satin shorts covered in smiling daisies and a matching pajama jacket. Bex was wearing a BPD tank top and plaid cotton boxers, which at least looked like clothing (almost). But she didn't say anything as she slipped on her sneakers and followed the Rizzolis to the car.

Bex and Frankie chattered away on the short ride to the diner, with Jane occasionally tossing in her two cents. Phoebe was silent, basking in the glow of their radiant warmth. When they pulled into the small parking lot, Phoebe noticed that there were only a few empty spots left. Her stomach twisted with dread as she thought of all the people who would see her in her nightclothes.

She swallowed hard, trailing behind Bex and Frankie into the restaurant. She paused at the doors, and felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You wanna wear my jacket?" Jane asked, her eyes smiling kindly. "At least until we sit down. That way no one will see your jammies."

Phoebe felt a lump rise in her throat. "Oh, I couldn't—"

Jane draped the blazer over her shoulders. "C'mon, kiddo," she said. "Let's get in there before Bex and my brother eat everything in sight!"

Phoebe felt safe with Jane's jacket and arm wrapped around her. Bex waved her thick green arm at them from a booth in the back.

"I wanna eat _everything_!" Bex shouted.

"Pace yourself, Bug, okay?" Jane warned. "Your eyes have a tendency to be bigger than your stomach."

"What are you gonna get, Bee?" Bex asked, ignoring her mother completely. "Maybe we can share. I want eggs, and bacon, and chocolate chip pancakes, and sausage, and waffles, and—"

Phoebe's eyes widened. "That's…quite a lot of food," she choked out. "I was probably going to have granola and yogurt."

"That's _it_?" Bex asked incredulously. "C'mon, Bee! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

Phoebe winced internally. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry – but Jane would be paying for the meal, and Phoebe didn't want to put her out.

Jane intervened. "Bex, Phoebe can get whatever she wants. Even if it's just yogurt and granola." Jane was still looking at Bex, but Phoebe could tell that the next comment was directed at her. "But breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day."

Phoebe finally agreed to split an order of chocolate chip pancakes with Bex, along with the granola and yogurt, which seemed to put both Jane and Bex at ease. After the friendly waitress had taken their orders, Phoebe felt Bex poke her arm.

"Look, a pinball machine! Do you wanna play with me, Bee?"

"Um." Phoebe bit her lip. She was terrible at all games that required hand-eye coordination. She said this to Bex, who merely shrugged.

"Please, it'll be fun!" she urged, her eyes shining.

When Phoebe continued to chew on her lip, Frankie cut in. "I'll play with you, Bex. You need someone to make up for your bum arm."

Phoebe watched as Bex and her uncle wandered over to the machine. She wondered what it would have been like, growing up with men. Would she be more outgoing and better at sports like Bex? Or would she still shy away from the ball in gym class?

"Are you sure you don't wanna play?" Jane asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Phoebe looked at her. "I'm sure," she said cheerfully. "I really am terrible at those games. Oh, but you can play if you want!" she added nervously. She wondered if Jane was only staying because she'd refused to play.

"No, it's all right," Jane said. "I'm not great at those games either."

Phoebe sensed that Jane was lying, but she didn't want to say anything about it. Instead she looked down at her hands, trying to come up with an innocent question to ask.

"Where are you from?" Jane asked, beating her to the punch.

"Um, Maine," Phoebe replied, looking up. "Not far from here." She wondered if Jane thought it was strange that she wouldn't specify a city, but her mother's words rang in her ears. The first rule: _never reveal your location._

"That's nice," Jane said. "You're not too far from home then. Do you miss your family?"

"I miss my mom, yes," Phoebe replied quietly. _Now more than ever._

"Any siblings?"

"Um, no. I'm an only child. Just my mother and me." Phoebe hoped she wasn't giving away too much information, but she couldn't see how she was breaking any of the rules. Besides, it wasn't like Jane was out to kill her mother.

"What does your mom do?"

"She's a science teacher," Phoebe answered. "She really likes science."

Jane smiled. "Do you like science, too?"

Phoebe nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes! It's my favorite subject in school."

Phoebe noticed that Jane's smile faltered a bit, and she wondered if she'd said something wrong.

"What do you like about science?" Jane asked.

School was a safe topic – and one of Phoebe's favorites. "Absolutely everything," she gushed. "But I think my favorite thing is that it all makes perfect sense. My mom always says that science doesn't lie – it doesn't change its mind. It just _is_."

Jane let out a tiny gasp, and Phoebe's eyes widened.

"Are you alright, Det-um, Jane?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah," Jane said, her voice rough. "You just…uh, someone I used to know said something like that to me."

Phoebe bowed her head. She hadn't meant to make Jane sad; she just wanted to be with her, even if only for a little while. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to bring up a bad memory."

"You didn't," Jane countered. When Phoebe didn't meet her eyes, she said, "I mean it, you didn't. All those memories are good ones, I swear."

Phoebe gave her a little smile. "That's good. It's nice to have memories of the people you love, even if you're not with them anymore."

The minute the words left her mouth, Phoebe realized her mistake. Jane's mouth dropped open, and her dark eyes narrowed.

"What do you – how—"

"Just, you know, speaking from my own experience," Phoebe covered quickly. "Like at camp – I have memories of having fun with my mom that keep me happy. And after camp, I'll have memories of Bex so I don't miss her as badly." Phoebe knew that was wishful thinking, but she didn't want to consider what it would feel like to say goodbye to her sister.

Jane nodded slowly, but kept a wary eye on Phoebe. "Right," she said. "Well—"

"Food, food!" The waitress was back, and with her came their breakfasts.

"I'm going to go get them," Jane said quietly, sliding out of the booth.

Phoebe waited patiently while the waitress arranged the plates on their table and Jane corralled Frankie and Bex. Bex slid in the other side of their booth, and it was then that they realized the problem.

"I'm left-handed," Bex said suddenly.

"Yeah, like me," Jane nodded, speaking through a mouthful of eggs.

"But you broke your—" Phoebe began.

"Yeah," Bex wailed. "How am I supposed to eat?"

"You can use your right arm," Frankie coached.

Bex frowned, but picked up the fork and began hacking away at the stack of pancakes at her place.

"Ugh!" she moaned in frustration. "This is impossible!"

"Here, let—" Jane began, but Phoebe had already slid the plate over to her side of the table. She began to delicately slice the pancakes into bite-sized squares, moving half to one side of the plate.

"Start with that," she said gently. "While you were playing pinball, I buttered the pancakes, so they should only need syrup. Okay?"

Bex nodded, smiling gratefully at her friend. "Thanks, Bee," she said.

"Of course," Phoebe replied, taking up a dollop of yogurt with her spoon. "What are friends for?"


	15. By Omission

wow, you guys are amazing! thank you for all of your reviews - we love hearing your ideas and thoughts, so keep those constructive comments coming! don't think of this chapter as filler - it's more of a bridge for what's to come. hope you enjoy!

as always, **la lisboa** and i only own what you don't recognize.

* * *

Phoebe tapped the end of her pen nervously against her jaw. Her small lap desk sat atop her knees and her book light was clipped to the end of the surface, illuminating her monogrammed stationery. All she had written down so far was _Dear Mommy_.

_Dear Mommy_, Phoebe thought. _You know my friend, Bex? Well, she's the daughter of your old friend, Jane._ Phoebe shook her head. That was all wrong.

_Dear Mommy, _she tried again. _I met Jane last week._

"Oh, dear," Phoebe groaned quietly. This seemed to be an impossible task. Of all the kids at camp, of all the camps in the world, of all the homicide detectives…Phoebe sighed. She _knew_ destiny was a scientific infeasibility, but somehow her heart didn't buy that anymore. There must be some reason that she and Bex had met – that Bex had brought her to Jane.

_Dear Mommy_,

_Do you recall me telling you about my friend, Bex? Well, it's been a very interesting couple of days…_

* * *

"Thank you so much for breakfast, Jane," Phoebe said. They were standing outside Bex's hospital room, waiting for the doctor to bring back the paperwork to release her. "I had the most marvelous time." She smiled up at Bex's mother, fervently hoping that Jane understood the extent of her joy.

"So did I, kiddo," Jane grinned, squeezing Phoebe's shoulder lightly. "You're a really great friend, you know? I'm very happy that I got a chance to meet you."

_You have no idea_, Phoebe wanted to say. But she stuck her hand out to shake instead. "I hope I'll see you again sometime," she said, unable to keep a tinge of sadness from her voice.

Jane grasped her hand tightly, and Phoebe relished the warmth of her grip, even as she felt the scars. She had been too nervous to notice them before, but her mother had told her about what Hoyt had done to Jane. Seeing Jane's hands, feeling them in her own, made it so much more real. It made _everything_ much more real.

"I'm sure you will. I don't think I'll be able to keep Bex away," Jane joked.

Phoebe paled considerably, but if Jane noticed, she didn't let on. "I'll miss her terribly," Phoebe admitted.

"I'll make sure you can keep in touch," Jane promised, bending down to Phoebe's eye level. "Okay? You're not gonna lose each other if you don't want to."

Phoebe nodded, slightly relieved that Jane mistook her anguish for concern. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Sure thing, Phoebe."

* * *

_And I think – I mean, I'm fairly certain – that I've met Jane. She fits your description, Mommy. Everything you said about her is still true. Her appearance, her personality, everything. And if I'm right, that means that Bex is her daughter. Which means that Bex and I…_

"Phoebe! Phoebe, are you in here?"

Phoebe jumped and quickly stowed her unfinished letter under her pillow. "Yeah!" she called back. "I'm here, Bex."

She heard heavy footsteps and then Bex appeared at her side. "Why didn't you come to dinner?" Bex wanted to know as she sat down on Phoebe's bed. Phoebe quickly moved her lap desk and placed it over her pillow, as extra protection for the letter. "I didn't have any help."

"I'm sorry," Phoebe apologized, feeling genuinely bad for her friend. Ever since the breakfast at the diner, she had helped Bex cut up her food. Bex was getting better at eating right-handed, but she still couldn't manage a knife by herself. "I just…wasn't feeling hungry."

Bex narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her. "You've been saying that a lot lately," she pointed out. "You said that about lunch, too."

Phoebe squirmed. It wasn't a lie, she really _wasn't_ hungry. Somehow, she hadn't had much of an appetite since the breakfast with Jane. "I don't know, maybe I'm coming down with something," she finally said. It was a lie, and she knew it, but she didn't want Bex to be worried. Surreptitiously, she scratched a small itch creeping up her neck.

"Okay," Bex said slowly. "But you still gotta eat. You need to keep your strength up."

Phoebe smiled. "You're right, Bex. And I'll try. Thank you for being concerned about me."

"Here." Bex reached under Phoebe's bunk and pulled out a box that Jane had sent the previous week. "Do you want to eat some of these?" she asked, brandishing a bag of pretzels in Phoebe's face.

"I can't, Bex," Phoebe said. "They were made in a factory that also has nuts."

"Oh," Bex said. She put them back in the box and pulled out some dried fruit instead. "Well, how about this? My mom knows I don't like the healthy stuff, but she sent it anyway."

"Thank you," Phoebe said quietly, taking the bag of dried apricots from her friend. She pulled one out and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"It's been better without Madison and Gabby here, right?" Bex asked while Phoebe ate. Molly had placed Madison and Gabby in a different cabin after they'd gotten back from the hospital.

"Yes, it is a bit more pleasant," Phoebe replied in between bites.

Bex frowned at her. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Phoebe answered quickly. "Nothing's wrong, Bex. Why would you say that?"

Bex opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the cabin door burst open and the rest of their cabinmates flooded in.

"No reason."

* * *

_Which means that Bex and I are sisters. And I don't know what I should do. I can't tell her that without ruining everything, but I can't lie to her either._

Phoebe sighed. Molly had called for lights out ten minutes ago, but she couldn't get her mind to shut off. Phoebe felt like the Princess and the Pea – the sealed envelope beneath her pillow seemed like a bowling ball under her head. She tossed, turning to face the wall, and stretched her fingers out in front of her.

She touched the rough wood of the cabin wall, imagining Jane's hands against hers once more. Regardless of the scars, Jane's hands were perfect. They'd felt so _right_ clasped in her own, and a small tear rolled down Phoebe's cheek at the thought that she'd already lost so many years of opportunities to hold them.

She almost wished she didn't know – that she hadn't met Jane, and therefore hadn't figured out that she and Bex were sisters, or meant to be. She heard Bex's soft snores from above her, and envied the other girl's ease of rest. But as jealous as she was of Bex's ignorance, it also made her sad. She'd always wanted a sister – someone to play with, and with whom to share secrets, and a partner in crime.

Phoebe's eyes grew heavy. Her last thought as she slipped into a fitful sleep was that she hoped, someday, that Bex would get to meet her _other_ mother.


	16. Questions of Faith

hi there! jane is finally putting those detective skills of hers to some use. what do you think the marshals will say?

side note: **la lisboa** and i are thinking of doing a series of vignettes for this story, based around the girls and their relationship with each other. would you guys be interested in reading little bb one-shots? please let us know in either a pm or review! thanks :)

* * *

Jane finished signing the last bit of paperwork and then closed the file, relieved to be done at last. She pushed her chair back from her desk and rested her head in her hands. Her body was ready to go home, but her mind was not. Jane glanced at the clock; it was just after nine.

It had been like this for the past three days, ever since she'd gotten back from visiting Bex. Jane just couldn't shake the feeling that something was…not wrong, per se, but not right either. It was those eyes – Phoebe's eyes – those startlingly hazel eyes that were the precise color and shape of Maura's. She saw them all the time now, especially in her dreams. There was just something about that girl.

Jane knew it was crazy; knew that she was being irrational. Maura was dead, had been dead for more than a decade now, and some friend of Bex's who just happened to have her eyes just had to be a coincidence.

Except that she didn't believe in coincidences.

"Janie?"

Jane looked up. Frankie had just entered the squad room. He walked over to her and sat down in Frost's empty chair. "Ma's gonna kill you."

"Why?"

Frankie pointed to the now-cold container of homemade soup at the edge of Jane's desk. She caught sight of the spoon, still resting atop the unopened container, and knew there was no use trying to lie. Instead, she pulled the container over to her and removed the lid. She hoped it would still taste good at room temperature.

"You gotta stop this, Janie," Frankie said as she began to eat her dinner. "Ma's getting worried about you. So am I."

"Whadya mean?" Jane asked thickly through a mouthful of soup.

"I mean…" Frankie trailed off, and Jane got the sense he was nervous about telling her whatever it was. Like he wasn't sure how she'd react. "I mean, you've been different since we got back from seeing Bex."

Jane narrowed her eyes at her little brother. "Different how?"

"Well – it's just – you've been working a lot," Frankie began.

"That's not different."

"I mean, I _know_ you work a lot, but you seem, I don't know, distracted," Frankie tried to explain. "You keep forgetting to eat. Your head's not in the game."

"Did Frost say something to you?" Jane asked suddenly. "He thinks there's something going on?"

"No – um, well, I mean, yes," Frankie amended under Jane's withering glare. "I mean, he said something to me, but I mean, I'd noticed it, too. You just – you just seem—"

"_What_?" Jane asked, feeling more annoyed now that Frankie continued to hesitate. "Just spit it out, Frankie."

"Okay, well, don't – don't take this the wrong way, Jane, but I know that you pulled Maura's file," Frankie said hurriedly.

"Who told you?" Jane wanted to know.

"Does it matter?" Frankie asked. "Look, Janie. I know how you must be feeling. I mean, I saw it, too. But, I mean…" He reached for her hands, but Jane pulled away. "Janie, Maura's still dead."

"I know that," Jane said through gritted teeth. She glared at him as if to say _thanks for the reminder._

"Well, if you know that, then—" Frankie backed away from his sister. Jane's body was tensing, and her eyes were narrowed. She was a ticking time bomb. "Look, I just—"

"You just _what_?"

Jane knew that nobody would understand her motivations – that was one of many reasons she hadn't told anybody she was going over the case again. Another reason was that Jane didn't want to be embarrassed if it turned out that her gut instinct was wrong. But then, that was the thing about Jane's gut; it rarely was.

"Jane," Frankie pleaded. "We all miss her. But burying yourself in this isn't gonna bring her back!"

Jane shot out of her chair, the soup spoon falling on her desk and splattering droplets of broth everywhere. "You have _no idea_ what it's been like, Frankie," she spat in a deadly low voice. "You think you miss her, but you have _no idea_. Every single morning, Frankie, when I wake up? The side of the bed next to me is empty. And every single morning I am forced to remember that she's gone." Jane paused, swallowing a sob.

"Janie, I didn't mean—"

"Save it," Jane growled. She knew she was being harsh, but she was too angry to care. "Tell Ma and Frost and whoever else that I'm doing this; I don't care. But don't you _dare_ try to tell me that you know what I'm going through. You got over Maura a long time ago, Frankie – I _still_ haven't."

Frankie's face was grim and crushed, and Jane felt a twinge of regret. But the fire of rage still blazed in her chest, and she pushed her guilt aside.

"Finish your soup, Jane," Frankie said quietly. "And try to go home and get some sleep."

"Okay," Jane bit out. She sat back down, grabbing a napkin from her drawer and wiping up the spilled soup. She heard Frankie leave the bullpen and she sighed. She knew his heart was in the right place, but that knowledge didn't make her feel any better. She took another spoonful of dinner, and then decided it was awful unheated. She lidded the container and took it back to the break room to zap it in the microwave.

Jane leaned against the counter as her soup heated, trying to dissipate her anger. Trying to understand how she knew was impossible, but Jane just _knew_ that Phoebe was connected to Maura. She could see it in her eyes, she could hear it in her voice, and she could feel it when Phoebe spoke. When she said her favorite subject was science. When she'd said why.

_Stop_, Jane tried to tell herself. The microwave beeped to let her know the soup was ready, but Jane merely opened the door and shut it again without taking the soup container out. Thinking about Maura had made her completely lose her appetite.

Maura's case hadn't revealed anything she didn't already know. Jane had committed the detectives' reports to memory long ago. Even going over the familiar notes hadn't helped to shed any new insights into what had happened that night. The only way that Maura could still be alive was if she'd somehow been funneled into witness protection.

Jane froze. What if she _had_ been sent there? If Danny Boy Flanagan's gang had really ordered a hit on her, the marshals wouldn't have just set her free even if she had survived.

"Jane?"

Jane turned around. Frankie was back, a nervous but determined expression on his face. "Jane, I didn't like how we left things, but-"

"No, Frankie, listen," Jane said excitedly. "I think I figured it out. I think they hid Maura in WITSEC." Frankie opened his mouth to protest, but Jane cut him off. "No, hear me out! I asked Phoebe where they lived, and she just said 'Maine.' Who just says a state? She didn't give a city. Maura probably told her she couldn't be specific about her location."

"Jane…"

"And her file, Frankie, it just doesn't add up. The location of the bullet was at her clavicle; it's completely possible to survive with a GSW there." Jane brandished the file at him. "Look, look! They didn't even _include_ the doctors' notes, how do we even know that's why she died?"

"Jane, listen to yourself," Frankie said sternly. He took the file and threw it down on the table. "This is crazy—"

"But it could be true—"

"Maybe it is," Frankie said, although she knew he was just humoring her. "But, Jane, you can't just go digging around WITSEC. Think about how much danger you'd be putting Maura in, if you're right. If she really is in the program, she's there for a reason. If you try to contact her, they could find her location and kill her."

Jane sighed. "You're right," she conceded finally. "But it isn't fair."

Frankie smiled sympathetically and then hugged her. "You're right, Janie. None of it is fair."

Jane rested her head on her brother's shoulder and closed her eyes. As much as she knew he was right, Jane knew that if Maura _was_ still alive, she would go to any lengths to find her.

"Let's go home," Jane said aloud.

She would reach out to the marshals tomorrow.


	17. Don't Get Made

well, i can't sleep, and y'all have been so good to wait for this ;) it's insane!

again, please let either me or **la lisboa** know if you're interested in some bb!vignettes, as mentioned in the last a/n. thanks so much! you're all dolls.

* * *

Bex was getting seriously annoyed. Madison's posse was surrounding her, and between the overstuffed designer bags and gaggle of girls, there was no way to move through the cabin. Bex huffed, dragging her duffel bag behind her with her good arm, and not-so-accidentally bumping into Olivia as she lugged her bag to the cabin door. She couldn't wait to get out of here. The bus back to Boston could not come soon enough.

As she reached the door to Spruce Cabin, Bex cast a long look back at the bunk bed that she and Phoebe had shared. Phoebe, being Phoebe, had already taken her stuff outside. Molly had taken her to the clinic to retrieve all of her medications. Bex hoped that Phoebe would be back soon. She didn't want to hang around her cabinmates any longer, but she had to say goodbye to Phoebe.

Bex couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew something had been up with Phoebe since they had returned from the hospital. She had tried asking about it once, but all Phoebe had said was that she'd really miss Bex at the end of camp. Bex got the feeling that Phoebe was deliberately keeping something from her, and she didn't like it. But she knew Phoebe well enough to know that pushing would probably get her nowhere. She just hoped it wasn't that Phoebe no longer wanted to be her friend.

To her dismay, there was no sign of Phoebe outside of the cabin. Bex deposited her duffel bag next to Phoebe's luggage and plopped down, rubbing at her cast. She couldn't wait to get the cast off in the next month. When she was younger, she'd often thought that casts looked cool, but now that she had to wear one, Bex actually found that she hated it.

"Ready to go, Bex?"

Bex looked up to see her counselor Jess. Bex smiled. "Yeah. I'm just waiting for Phoebe."

"You're on the bus to Boston, right?" Jess asked.

Bex nodded. "Yep."

"Okay. You can say goodbye to Phoebe. I'll take your bag for you." Jess's eyes lingered on Bex's cast. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, thank you," Bex said, smiling politely. She might not miss the other girls in her cabin, but she did like Jess.

Bex watched Jess walk towards Juniper Cabin with her bag and sighed. Phoebe still wasn't back, and the bus would be leaving soon. Bex sat back. She would say goodbye to Phoebe no matter what. She wasn't about to let her best friend leave without saying goodbye.

Finally, Bex caught sight of Phoebe's blonde curls. Bex breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. Phoebe still hadn't seen her, but she was headed straight to Spruce.

Suddenly Phoebe stopped moving. Bex frowned; her friend was looking at something to her right. Two men dressed in suits were approaching her. One of them touched her shoulder. Bex couldn't tell what they were saying, but could tell that whatever they were telling her, they were making Phoebe very upset.

Bex ran forward.

"—you've got to come with us, right away," they were saying.

"What's wrong?" Bex winced painfully at the fear in her friend's voice.

"We can't tell you right now." The taller of the two men looked stern, and his voice was as grim as Bex felt.

"Wait, wait," Phoebe said, her tone frantic. "Is it my mom? Did something happen?"

Bex's stomach flipped. Phoebe sounded terrified. She knew too well the fear of losing one's mother, as her own mother's job came with quite a bit of uncertainty.

"Look, kid," the shorter man said. "Everything's going to be all right, you hear? We're marshals; we'll take care of you. You don't have to worry. Your mother just can't make it to pick you up. We're going to take you to her."

Bex frowned. The men were saying all the right things, but something felt wrong.

"O-okay," Phoebe stuttered. "Should I get my things?"

"No, I'll get them," the shorter man said, and he walked toward their cabin. Bex ducked behind a shrub, hoping he didn't spot her. Once he was out of earshot, Bex stood again, and began to trail behind Phoebe and the big guy.

She knew it was risky, knew that she might miss the bus, but she couldn't leave Phoebe alone. It wasn't just that she wanted to say goodbye to her friend. It was that her gut was telling her something fishy was going on here. Bex knew her mother thought ten was too young to listen to her intestines, but Bex couldn't help but feel that in this case, even her mother would make an exception.

_Think,_ Bex urged herself. _What's wrong with this picture?_

She looked at the man walking with Phoebe. He had said he was a marshal. Bex knew about marshals; her mother hated working with them. Bex saw the bulge on his side and knew that had to be a gun. That made sense. He wasn't wearing a uniform, but then, neither did her mother.

He turned around to look for his partner and then it clicked.

He didn't have a badge.

Bex hurried forward, ducking behind the trees. Her mother always said the first thing you should ask for if someone claimed to be law enforcement was their badge. But her mother was a detective and Phoebe's was a teacher. Phoebe probably hadn't been taught such rules.

Lost in thought, Bex stepped on a twig and it snapped loudly. She quickly hid behind the nearest cottage to avoid detection. She took a calming breath, and tried to remember the basics of detective work that her mother had drilled into her.

"Okay, Bex," she whispered encouragingly. "Light feet, so they don't hear you. Sharp eyes, so you see what they can't. Listen close, and watch for more clues. Um-oh, what's the last one?"

She heard movement and peeked out from behind the wall. Phoebe and the tall suit were walking again. _Light feet_, she reminded herself. She'd think of the last rule later. Bex tiptoed behind them, following to the edge of the campgrounds where the cars were parked.

A dark van with blacked-out windows was idling at the curb, and Bex tried to memorize the plate number.

"Nora, Queen, four, Victor—"

"What have we here?"

Bex whirled around. The shorter man was back, but he wasn't holding any of Phoebe's bags.

"I, um, just wanted to say goodbye to my friend," Bex said quickly. She hoped that sounded like an innocent enough reason. If they let her talk to Phoebe, then she could warn her to run.

The shorter man smirked. "What friend?"

Bex narrowed her eyes. "My friend, Phoebe. You're taking her to see her mom. She's right over there."

"I don't see anyone."

"What?" Bex turned around to look for Phoebe, but there was a sudden smack at the back of her head.

She finally remembered the last rule, and thought it desperately as her world went black.

_Whatever you do, _Bex's mother had warned. _Don't get made._


	18. Tongue Tied

Bex's head hurt like crazy. She tried to open her eyes, but the pain was blinding. She winced, covering her eyes with her hand. A soft moan escaped her lips.

"Shh." She suddenly felt a small hand on top of her own. "Shh, Becca."

"Bee?" Bex croaked. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Phoebe whispered. She sounded terrified.

Bex opened her eyes, but she couldn't make Phoebe out in the darkness. She could feel the floor moving and knew they had to be in some sort of vehicle. Bex slowly shifted so that she was sitting up. She crossed her legs and felt for Phoebe's hands. Her friend's skin was cool and clammy.

"Do you know where we are?" Bex asked.

"No." Phoebe sniffled back some tears. "We're in a van, but I don't know where we're going."

"I _knew_ it," Bex hissed. "I knew those guys were bad."

"How?"

"I heard them tell you they were marshals," Bex explained. "But they never showed badges."

"I'm so sorry, Bex," Phoebe whispered. Bex felt the first teardrop hit her hand. "I should never have gone with them. This is all my fault. They told me that something had happened to my mom and I was scared and I thought they were going to take me to her—"

"Shh," Bex said. She scooted closer to Phoebe and pulled her into a hug so that Phoebe's sobs were muffled by Bex's shoulder. She wanted to cry, too, but she couldn't allow herself to fall apart now. She had to stay strong, for both of them. "It's okay, Bee. It's not your fault.

"Yes, it is," Phoebe insisted. "I should have known they weren't marshals. I know what the marshals look like, and these men weren't the same—"

"Wait, what?" Bex interrupted her. "What do you mean 'the same'? How do you know what the marshals look like? How many marshals do you know?"

"Bex, I can't—" Phoebe cut off, and Bex felt the van began to slow down. "Bex, what do we do?" Phoebe asked.

Bex searched her mind for help. "Um, shut up," Bex said. "Close your eyes like you're asleep."

Bex rested her head against the back of the seat, and felt Phoebe shift to do the same. Bex's heart sped up, but she tried to keep her breathing shallow and even. She felt the car jolt into park, and prayed that they were not being dumped on a highway somewhere.

The far door clicked open. "They're out cold, McGinnis," one of the men said.

"Good. Leave 'em that way, I'm hungry."

The door slid shut, and Bex heard the car beep twice as it locked. She waited a few beats, and then tried to unlock and open the door. It wouldn't budge.

"Child locks," she muttered. "Phoebe, they're gone."

"Are you okay?" Phoebe asked her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Bex still had a killer headache, but she was more concerned with getting them both out of this mess alive. "Hey, Bee – look out your window. Can you see anything that could tell us where we are?"

"I just see restaurant signs," Phoebe answered. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. I can't see anything either. Dang it," Bex groaned. This all seemed so easy and fun when it was her mom and uncle doing the work, but now that Bex was in this situation alone, she wasn't doing a very good job.

"If my mom were here, she'd know what to do," Bex said, mostly thinking out loud.

"Yeah," Phoebe agreed. "She's great."

Bex cocked her head at her friend, a bit confused at the wistful, loving tone she was using. But the other girl looked away.

"Bee, what is wrong with you? Did I do something?"

Bee looked down. "No, it isn't you," she said quietly. "I just…you're the best friend I've ever had, Bex," Phoebe whispered. "And I would hate to do or say anything that could jeopardize the relationship we have."

"Um…"

"I don't want to lose you," Phoebe clarified.

"Oh." Bex nodded. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, Bee. You're stuck with me."

Phoebe smiled sadly. "I wish it were that simple."

"Oh, hey there!" In the midst of their conversation, the faux marshals had come back to the car. "Look who's awake, Linden!"

"Just let me do the talking," Bex hissed.

The lock clicked and the door opened. Bex had a split-second thought that she could make a break for it, but the thought quickly vanished from her mind. Beside the fact that she wasn't sure Phoebe would follow her in time, she saw the gun in the man's hand.

"You won't get away with this," Bex said, sounding more confident than she felt. She heard Phoebe whimpering, but tried to tune it out. "You can't just take two kids from a summer camp. People are going to notice that we're missing. And they're going to call the cops."

One of the men – Bex wasn't sure if he was Linden or McGinnis – snickered. "There's so much chaos at that camp no one even noticed you ran off after me. You really think they're going to figure out that you're missing?"

"'Course they are," Bex said, narrowing her eyes at him. "My mom's expecting me to be home tonight. And if I'm not there, she's going to worry. And then she's going to mobilize the entire Boston police force to come find me."

"Ooh, Mac, I'm really scared now," the shorter man said to his partner mockingly.. "Someone's _mommy _might come after us!"

"This is not a laughing matter," Bex said stoutly. "My mom's Boston homicide. And my uncle's in narcotics."

Mac looked at Linden, eyebrows raised. Bex held her breath. Any minute now, she knew, they were going to have to let them go. No one wanted to get caught by the police.

"Sweetheart, what's your mommy's name?"

"Detective Jane Rizzoli. And _don't_ call me 'sweetheart.'"

But Bex's bravado was quickly ebbing away. The men didn't look frightened by this statement; on the contrary, they looked positively overjoyed.

"I can't believe it," McGinnis was saying. "This is too good to be true!"

"Boss is gonna be tickled," Linden said wryly. "Go call him, Mac."

McGinnis turned to leave, but then handed Linden a greasy paper sack. "Don't forget to feed them, Lin," he said.

Linden tossed the bag into the backseat and shut the door. It locked automatically.

"What did he mean, 'too good to be true'?" Bex asked, both bewildered and angry. "And what does their boss want?"

"It sounds like they think your mother will be useful to them," Phoebe replied nervously as she grabbed a sandwich out of the bag in her lap. "Are you hungry, Bex? We should probably try to keep our energy up."

Bex shook her head. "No." She suddenly felt sick. What if she'd put her mom in danger, too?

"It's going to be okay," Phoebe said, though she didn't sound completely convinced. "Your mom can take care of herself. And she's going to be looking for you anyway. I'm sure they would have found out about her sooner or later-"

"And what about _your_ mother?" Bex interrupted tersely. "What's she going to do? Is she looking for you?"

Phoebe put down her sandwich, suddenly looking wary. Bex frowned at her friend. "What aren't you telling me?"

Phoebe couldn't met her eyes. "Um – well, Bex, um, don't get mad, but – there's something I – should have told you."

"Okay," Bex said slowly.

Phoebe took a deep breath. "I didn't know until I met your mom," she whispered, still looking at her hands. "And I put it together. I can't – there are some things I'm not allowed to tell you, things I'm not allowed to tell anyone, ever." She finally looked up, and Bex saw she was completely serious. "But you should know that…you and I…we're sisters."

* * *

oh, hello there. i certainly hope you enjoyed this chapter! see you on friday.

also, are we all in favor of bb!vignettes? please let us know yea/nay if you haven't already.

~**starophie** and **la lisboa**~


	19. Ties that Bind

so, so sorry for the delay! it's still friday where **la lisboa** is, though? busy week, not a lot of sleep, and only one thing to do today, so i've been bumming. but you are all so lovely and patient, which i know is hard ;)

have a lovely weekend, and we'll be back monday. xox

* * *

_Sisters?_

Phoebe was watching her intently, waiting for a reaction. Bex had no idea what to say. "Um, Bee," she started awkwardly. "Don't get me wrong, I love you like a sister, but we're not related…"

"Perhaps not biologically," Phoebe conceded carefully. "We have different mothers, so at most, we'd be half-siblings. If they used the same sperm donor both times, then we are biologically related. But even if we're not…" Phoebe trailed off.

"Wait," Bex said, holding up her hand. "You said you were created in a lab. Are you saying that _I _was created in a lab, too?"

"I think you were," Phoebe said, nodding. "But that's beside the point."

"No, it _is_ the point!" Bex argued. "My mom would have told me if I was created in a lab. And we're – we're not related, we can't be related - our mothers don't even know each other!"

"No, Becca," Phoebe said quietly. "No. They did know each other. My mother used to live in Boston. She used to work with yours at the Boston Police Department. They were best friends – actually, they were more than that-"

"No." Bex shook her head. She couldn't believe what Phoebe was telling her. "No. No, no, no! My mom would have _told _me if she'd had a best friend. She would have _told _me about your mom. She's met you – she would have said something if she knew your mother."

Phoebe bit her lip. "Your mother doesn't know that I'm her friend's daughter."

"Some friend," Bex scoffed. Phoebe's expression was upset, but something told Bex that she wasn't lying. Bex awkwardly crossed her casted arm over her good one. "Let's say you're right," Bex conceded. "So they knew each other once. But how does that make us sisters?"

"They didn't just 'know each other once,'" Phoebe corrected her. "And they weren't just best friends either. They were in love with each other."

"You're lying!" Bex burst out. "Even if they were best friends, my mom isn't _gay_!" Bex spit the word like a curse, and she instantly regretted it. The nervous look on Phoebe's face changed to one of anger and hurt.

"I would never lie to you, Becca!" Phoebe yelled. "Especially not about something of this magnitude!"

"You always have to be such a smartypants," Bex jibed. "Why can't you just use normal words? We're definitely not related; my mom and I talk like humans, not robots."

"Bex," Phoebe said patiently, though her face was still crinkled in sadness. "I knew you would take this the wrong way. And that's why I didn't tell you earlier-"

"What do you mean?" Bex demanded. "How long have you known about this? Have you known the whole time?"

"No, no!" Phoebe tried to soothe her. "No, I didn't know! I didn't figure it out until I saw your mother, until I met her. My mom had told me about her, and I knew what she looked like, and what she did, and when I heard her name, I just put it all together."

"Well, your mom's wrong then," Bex said angrily. "Because my mom isn't gay. She dates _men._ She doesn't even like women. She doesn't spend any time with them. Ever."

"She could be bisexual," Phoebe suggested.

Bex groaned. "Phoebe!" she exclaimed, knowing the use of her full name would take her friend aback. "It doesn't _matter_ if our moms were friends once. That doesn't mean that you and I are related. What, were they married or something?" she asked sarcastically.

"No, I don't think so," Phoebe replied. "Although they could have been. It is legal in Massachusetts."

"So then what makes you say that we're related?"

"Because we would have been sisters!" Phoebe insisted. "If my mother hadn't had to leave Boston, then you and I would have grown up together. Our mothers would have raised us together, I'm sure of it."

"Yeah?" Bex challenged. "And why did your mom leave Boston?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I can't tell you that, Becca. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you can't tell me?" Bex cried. "You expect me to believe that you and I are sisters, but you won't tell me why we didn't grow up together? How come my mom never told me any of this? How come she's never talked about your mom?" Bex glared at her friend. "I don't believe you."

Phoebe sighed. "Your mom probably never told you any of this because she thinks…" Phoebe gulped. "Um, she thinks my mom is dead."

Bex laughed hollowly. "She thinks your mom is dead?"

"Yes," Phoebe replied. Bex noticed she was twisting the empty sandwich wrapper tightly in her hands. "And for all intents and purposes, my mother _is _dead. The person that your mother once knew, she's gone. My mother has a new life now."

"Why?" Bex wanted to know.

"I can't tell you the details," Phoebe replied. "But it's for her own safety. There were these men who wanted to kill her, and they shot her. She lived, but it was safer for her to pretend to be dead. So the marshals moved her away and changed her name. She didn't tell anyone where she went, not even your mom."

"Why not?" Bex asked. "If they were such good friends, you'd think she could have mentioned something."

"No." Phoebe shook her head. "You can't tell _anyone_ where you're going. If someone suspects you're still alive, then you're still in danger. It's safer if people think you are dead."

"Is that why these guys are after your mom?" Bex questioned, frowning. "These are the guys who tried to kill her?"

"I'm not sure these are the exact guys who fired the gun," Phoebe answered. "But I think they work for whoever wanted – wants – my mom dead."

Bex rubbed her eyes with her good hand. This was an even bigger mess than she'd thought. She was starting to wish she'd never followed those strange men talking to Phoebe at camp.

But as soon as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. If she and Phoebe were sisters, it was even more important that Bex was there to protect her. And even if not, Phoebe was still her best friend. If Phoebe was right about the guys that had taken them, then her mother's life was in danger. If Phoebe was right, then _her_ life was in danger, too.

_And now,_ Bex thought grimly, _so is mine._


End file.
